


For Better or Worst

by Hunter Stu (stunudo)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-11-07 15:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20819441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunudo/pseuds/Hunter%20Stu
Summary: Summary: Sam Winchester will stop at nothing to save his brother from the Archangel Michael, even if it means taking a ludicrous deal to stop hunting. Months pass and Sam wades through life as an archivist at the local university, while his new wife teaches History. Can Cas break through their carefully constructed life to get Sam back while remaining under the radar of the powers that be? What is Jack’s part in their schemes? Will Dean ever be safe? What stake does Sam’s wife hold in the deal and can he trust her?As Sam begins to piece together truth from lies, she learns just who she is married to. Will the newlyweds remain united as their deals unravel or part as adversaries? Or worse: strangers?Warnings: This series contains religious themes and will have Bible quotes accompanying some chapters. It keeps in line with the theology/ mythology of the show. There will be magical persuasion, mixed reality and dub!con elements. Read at your own risk.THIS IS A SEASON 14 AU, IT BREAKS WITH CANON FROM EPISODE 10 ON.





	1. Weddings and Other Holy Deals

**   
**

**Jan. 20, 2019 **

Somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed lawns and the perfectly timed sprinkler systems, over a wide porch with a loveseat swing and past a storm door with etched glass, slept a Winchester. It was not a normal place for this Winchester, Sam for clarity’s sake, to be upon waking. But this wasn’t a usual day, for the hunter or anyone honestly. Though he had lived another day like this one, the excitement and anticipation he felt as he rolled over and saw his clock face shining back at him was unmatched. Today, Sam Winchester was getting married, and if he knew anything it was the best decision he had ever made. That things would only get better after today. Rare is certainty in life, which was why Sam held fast to his and began the life-changing day.

Across town, Bandit woke his bride. Bandit is her dog, soon to be their dog, a Setter mix that loved to herd. Emery Simmons had always been an animal person, but Bandit was a surprise blessing from her former life. She hadn’t asked to bring him along, though as there wasn’t much she had left, she supposed it was a perk to balance her expectations. She roamed through the short-term rental, contemplating the dress that had been left for her as she made herself a cup of tea. Bandit demanded a walk and a bout of catch in the park, which Emery accommodated, unhurried by the little preparations for the small ceremony. They weren’t going to start without her, after all.

Sam had exercised, showered and shaved by ten o’clock. He had another three hours before the service was scheduled, idle hands met a replaced contact list in his phone. He didn’t know any of these people yet, well he knew one. With little else to bide his time, Sam hit the old rotary phone icon below the smirking face.

“Whoa, when did they futz with our phones?” Emery asked, spinning around with Bandit’s leash before tucking her phone beneath her ear.

“Dunno, it’s weird right?” Sam stared at the tux bag hanging in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Creeptastic, actually. What’s up?” She sounded worried, maybe she was distracted. Sam was overthinking her tone and almost forgot to answer her.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call?” Sam offered, sitting at the end of the bed, huffing at himself with a sad smile. “Forget it, I’ll let you get back to your, stuff.”

“Hey, I’m just out for a walk, you’re not bothering me. Sam?” His name came out heavy, like she was reminding herself who she was marrying. He didn’t blame her. There was a scuffle on her end of the line before she groaned. “No, Bandit, no!”

Sam’s forehead shot to its full height. “Is that— are you walking a dog?”

“Uh, yesssssss? Is that going to be a problem?” Her sudden defensiveness made him grin, the image of her struggling with a leash warmed Sam from head to toe.

“Not at all, the opposite really. I love dogs.” He understood why she was anxious; they barely knew each other, it was a bit soon for a potential first fight.

“Well, good, shit, had me panicking there for a minute.” The conversation lulled as she reached the porch, each stumbling over small talk before she looked at the clock on the microwave. Sam was starting to pace, but the relief that there would be someone else in the house with them made it seem less scary somehow. They said their goodbyes and Sam decided he better eat before the nerves resurfaced. He quickly fried some bacon, out of habit, and tossed together a smoothie. Everything he could possibly want stocked in the fridge and cupboards; they had done their due diligence, apparently.

Two and a half hours later, Emery was hiking up the church steps, dress bent over her elbow and simple veil trailing behind her loose curls on a winter breeze. She had never had a lot of friends, but today was a day when a female entourage would have come in handy. She thought about her mother and how she would have worried over her hair until it needed to be reset. She sent up a silent prayer to her, telling her that she was finally making an honest woman of herself. Adding a few choice words that would have had them both pursing and posturing before breaking down into fits of giggles. God, did she miss her. She smiled quietly, opening her eyes and the heavy glass door.

The church was cavernous and quiet and after countless trips inside hallowed walls, Sam was able to appreciate the architecture and the scale of the ancient organ pipes. The minister seemed confused, but accommodating, given the last-minute organization. Sam stood at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, the ring box lightly brushing against his thigh. A blast of sound curled throughout the space, nimble fingers flying over aged keys as the timeless march stopped Sam’s heart. This was it, a pact fulfilled. He inhaled, swallowed, and turned to face his future.

Emery hated heels, but given the size of her husband, she may have to learn to live with them. The dress was forgiving at least, the gentle satin flowing as she glided down. Tried to glide. There was no one to give her away, no one at her elbow to keep time with, no onlookers to slow down for, no photographer to capture their faces as they saw each other for the first time. This moment was theirs alone, shy and appreciatively sacred. He smiled at her without teeth, dimples mesmerizing as she lost her rhythm, strolling to him out of the step-halt-step that was expected of her. None of that mattered anyway.

She shook her head and smiled back, licking her lips as she remembered the minister was waiting for her. Carefully she stood in front of Sam, toes of her white slippers lining up with his reflective black shoes. A small bouquet of orchids clutched in her right hand, her left petting her skirts as she tried to rub off the sweat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-,” the ceremony began. They echoed the scripted vows, eyes locked on each other in hopeful promise. Cautiously optimistic was too naïve for these two, humble veneration too romantic. They stood as strangers, forging a partnership to save those dearest to them. It was a contract that required both of their souls, willfully shared and bonded before Heaven and Earth. Samuel Winchester took this woman, Emery Simmons as his lawfully wedded wife. And she him. For better or worse.

**Two days prior**

Two days and a series of choices prior, stood the other Winchester in an underground fortress, three hundred fifty miles due East. Dean was in his bedroom, staring at Death, or Billie, if we’re being technical. Which we should, being the time jumps and all. Billie handed him the last remaining outcome of his life on Earth. The book, once one of countless possibilities, remained his sole option from world ending calamity. That was until Sam burst in, with a very stern angel on his heels.

“Dean! Listen, so—Naomi thinks she can help us. Help you, with Michael.” Dean looked from Death to his brother to the psychotic bureaucrat, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes and on his heart. Puppy dog’s hopeful eyes barraging him with an innocence he hadn’t had to let down gently in ages. Dean felt, unabashedly, like the oldest soul in the room. The women regarded each other, silent conversation earning only an audible hum from the former Reaper.

“Interesting. Dean? I think you need to hear them out. I’ll be in touch.” Billie nodded to Naomi and vanished before Sam could get a word in. No one mentioned how these beings, especially the angel, entered the Bunker. A place lauded as being the securest on the planet, had conveniently become a haven for all sorts of unmentionables.

“Okay, let’s hear it,” Dean sighed, perching on his bed as he listened to the latest hair-brained scheme. That night, after hours of arguing, endless curt responses from Naomi and rebuttals from Castiel, Dean agreed to leave with her. Before Naomi whisked him away, she shared a pregnant glance with Sam.

“We’ll be in touch,” the platinum blonde angel replied curtly. The air was suffocating with tension, Dean tried to get Sam’s attention and Cas glared at his former puppet master.

“Wait, what am I supposed to leave like there isn’t something else going on here?!” Dean bellowed at Naomi, who looked like the cat that got the cream, rolled her eyes.

“Boys, one thing at a time, please?” She gestured to a corner of the library, where a glowing pattern had appeared on the old tiles.

“How’d you—” Cas stared in awe as a portal to Heaven opened before their eyes.

“This is a one-way, temporary portal, Castiel. Don’t try to stowaway or the deal, all of the deals are off. Do I make myself clear?” Naomi glared at each man like a field trip chaperone. The men nodded, but Dean’s jaw worked over all of his unanswered questions. The pounding in his head intensified the moment Naomi arrived, which almost, was a relief. It meant Mikey knew something was happening and his suspicion was enough to swing Dean’s vote.

“Alright boys,” Dean sniffed. “See you on the other side?” He shook Cas’s hand before pulling him into a brief hug. Sam stood waiting, an arm up and one underneath, they embraced as equals. Another risk, another potential goodbye.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, bitch.” Dean chided, giving Sam a knowing smirk.

“Too short a list, jerk,” Sam tossed back, as Dean took Naomi’s hand like the kid forced to partner with the teacher in dance class. The portal swayed and flickered, the angel and the hunter pulled skyward, though Heaven was much farther away than the instant transport suggested.

“Sam?”

“Not now, Cas.” Sam stormed off, thumbing through his phone, needing to make some calls.

^*^*^


	2. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: The new couple completes their soul oaths and reality sinks in. A different kind of life awaits them, together.
> 
> Warnings: Could be considered dub!con smut, but the intention and consent is clear. Hints of infertility. This is the longest chapter for a while. xoxo

_ “And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.“ Colossians 3:14 _

**Wedding Night**

There had been no cocktail hour or reception. Once Sam had kissed Emery and they signed the marriage license, with the organist and caretaker as witnesses, they simply gathered their things and went home. Bandit was somehow waiting for them in the backyard, which was perfectly fenced for pets and privacy. The bungalow Sam had woken in, was a three bedroom, with plenty of space for both of them to feel comfortable. They changed out of their formal wear, separately, and went out to eat, each insisting the other pick the cuisine. Sam drove, which was still an adjustment for him, but it allowed Emery to search for restaurants. He kept glancing over at her, a weird feeling of satisfaction flowing through him as he watched her. She was smart and beautiful, and she was his.

It was a bit of a head rush for her, to be honest. Emery hadn’t been in a relationship in years and suddenly she was seated beside her tall husband with his long hair and five o’clock shadow debating about what to have as their first meal together. Who wouldn’t be slightly frazzled?

“Okay, we’re just going to find the closest place, and if it’s packed, we’ll go to the next one,” Emery announced as they chewed over their options. Sam had pulled over because he was driving in circles and didn’t know how to navigate the downtown quite yet.

Sam smiled and nodded, bottom lip popping out in consideration. “Sounds good.”

They found an Asian fusion place on 6th, it was barely four in the afternoon and therefore nearly empty. They got a table near the windows and took turns people watching. The older waiter smiled knowingly at the fumbling pair. “First date?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam chomped his teeth in chagrin.

“Shut up Sam,” Emery corrected him. “It’s our wedding night, don’t listen to him.”

The waiter laughed, patting her hand. “We take good care of you. Congrats.” He had a bottle of Sake delivered, on the house, before the appetizer arrived. Emery toasted Sam and he raised his eyebrows just before she downed her entire glass, winking at his frozen face.

Emery had gotten comfortable on the ride home, resting her hand on Sam’s thigh and head on his shoulder, despite the space between seats in their hybrid. He felt tight around the collar and kept turning the defrost on and off, the winter air fighting against his growing body heat. He killed the engine, and waited for her to move first, but she just looked up at him, a tipsy smile breaking apart her soft features.

“Hey, so,” she inhaled over her bottom lip before continuing. “Um, I think we have to, ya know. For everything to be official. And, it’s—it’s been a real long time. And I know I just met you and we’re married. Yay! But also, scary—you know?!”

Sam nodded, letting her ramble, taking her hand from his lap, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Emery? It’s okay. I’m not going to put any pressure on you, besides the whole wrath of heaven thing—” Sam smirked, before he pulled their hands over his heart. “I swear.”

She sighed, face falling nearly into a full swoon before she leaned up and kissed him. Lips slipping before Sam caught her and pulled her closer. Bandit, naturally, broke the moment, barking as a pedestrian crossed behind them where the sidewalk met their driveway. The newlyweds broke apart with a shared chuckle. 

Later on, after overthinking, some feet dragging, and a skin care regimen more detailed than she had ever attempted, Emery walked into the bedroom. Sam was stretched out, above the covers, on what was quite possibly the largest bed she had ever seen in person. He wore a plain gray tee shirt and matching black and gray pajama pants, while nose deep in a read-worn hardback with one arm crooked behind his head. Emery herself had gone causal as well, forgoing the lingerie set that was not so subtly hanging in her side of the closet, instead she chose a simple oversized shirt that fell to her mid-thigh.

In all fairness, the delay and Emery’s nervousness wasn’t because she was self-conscious; it was just a lot of pressure. She took a deep breath, and another for courage.

“Hey—” Sam’s voice, still fresh to her ears, but reassuring all the same.

“Hey back,” Emery slipped forward, slow and steady, looking down her nose at his book.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m sort of used to the left side?” Sam sat up, setting the book on his side table. Emery chuckled as she plopped down onto the cushioning bed top, curling on her side to face her husband, head propped up by an elbow.

“This bed is humongous, I don’t think I’ll even notice you there,” she fell back, kicking out her hands and feet. Suddenly she brushed reaching fingers, threading together in centering connection. She pulled Sam over in mock tug-of-war.

“I think you’re gonna notice I’m here,” Sam countered, eyebrows pitching suggestively.

“Is that so? Oh no, do you snore?!” Emery accused.

“No, at least I don’t think so,” Sam laughed, brushing her bangs back as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t usually sleep that deeply anyway.”

“Yeah, sleep is overrated,” Emery agreed, eyes locking onto his shadowed hazels, a near mirror of her own. The quiet of the house echoed their conversation, hushed and buzzing, she wasn’t sure what was felt or heard, it was, just building.

“Tell me about it,” Sam whispered as he took her face in his broad palms, mouth claiming hers in hungered culmination. It was a calm tide, shifting and adjusting as they learned and shared one another. Her soft hands roamed his chest, sending chills as she smoothed over his tattoo. Soon, Emery was straddling Sam, her clothed heat stoking his desire with each gentle roll of her hips. She purred appreciatively as he nipped down her neck, mouth latching over her dark nipple. Memories flooded her, and she shook them away, hours of exhaustion and desperation with her son at her breast. Thoughts that would do her no good in the here and now.

Emery slid back to the comforter, pulling Sam’s shoulder with her, hoping he’d take over. He did, gladly. His hands quickly freed them of the last of their pajamas. Rough fingers smoothing over her tawny thighs.

“Do we need—” Sam started, but she shook her head almost regretfully.

“No, I can’t- it’s okay. We’re fine,” Emery answered without explaining.

“Well, okay, then.” Sam kissed her again, letting his tongue dance away from hers until she was writhing underneath him, knuckles barely brushing her folds. Sam noted every quake and quiver, wanting her ready. Needing her wanting.

The waves pitched and they moved to keep up, with each other and inevitability. Sam dragged his teeth down the valley of her chest, tasting the salty spice of her skin before diving into her heady juices. He teased her hood with the tip of his nose, tongue flicking out, drawing the most sinful exaltations from her. He worked her open, learning her body, bare and blemished with untold stories, yet perfect all the same. Once he added a third finger, she started to retaliate, carding her fingers through Sam’s hair as she nearly sat up, bending with the blossoming pleasure.

“Sam. Saaaaaamm. Sam!” Emery demanded.

“Not yet, Baby, you’re so close,” he shushed her, nuzzling into her thigh before returning with impossibly slow and wide strokes of that tongue. That damned tongue. He was right, but she didn’t know how she could get it out, let it go, or reach it. Everything ached with intensity, and as soon as one would snuff out a match, she barreled down that hill. Sam’s lips and fingers pushing her over and through as heat and sound merged into thought ending euphoria. Sam crawled back up his wife’s body, her blissed out and thoroughly worked over body.

“Oh, I could get used to that,” Emery giggled, kissing him firmly, before breaking off into a pleased groan. Her knees notched around Sam’s waist, as she played with his hair, a mixture of mischief and pride pulling at his features.

“It’ll be even better next time; I’m a fast learner,” Sam reassured her, and probably himself. She couldn’t imagine the learning curve after that presentation. He slowly laced himself with her desire, hard and ready at her core. This was their final hurtle, the last promise, the bow on the knot of their deals. Sam kissed Emery’s cheek, and eased inside her, the sizzling pressure, hot and tight over every inch of him. She whimpered and Sam froze, waiting for her to look back at him. The briefest flash of gold circled her pupil as she locked onto his stare. She saw a similar gilded magic “C” cord through the inside of Sam’s multifaceted irises, knowing it was done. They were permanently bonded, body and soul.

“Wow,” Emery gasped, a breath more than a whisper.

“Yeah?” Sam grinned, breaking the awe with a chest deep laugh before getting to work.

“Yeah,” Emery answered, pulling her knees back, giving Sam depth and space. He braced a hand over her shoulder, keeping her bent beneath him and he hammered into her. Her smooth wetness making his blood sing. The sweat beaded on his neck, his lower back and down his tummy, every inch of him flushed with effort and pleasure. Sam groaned as his balls hitched, he exhaled trying to hold out. He slowed his thrusts, meat of his hand falling over her mound. Emery bucked against the weight of his hand, earning a calculated shove back, losing her balance, her legs fell back down.

They broke apart, electric and panting. Emery rolled to her knees, as Sam’s hands found the delicate catch of her love handles, centering himself. He filled her this way, deep and fast, chest to back, palm over hand. Trembling and overwhelmed, the pair crashed forward. Sam’s solid weight just enough pressure to keep Emery alert, to balance the aftershocks. With the satisfying wedge of his fingers through hers, they drifted off. Naked and bound.

Magic comes with a cost and a spell that binds one being to another, soul deep and unwavering takes an immense amount of energy. Energy that the casters didn’t have to spare, therefore the newlyweds woke a day later than they expected to. Sam groaned and rolled away from the cool fingers splayed across his chest. He felt his brain thud through his head like a marble in a maze, his every joint ached. Everything came rushing back like every whiskey fueled night rolled into one debilitating hangover and subsequent walk of shame.

Sam met Bandit in the kitchen, doing a double take before the inquisitive boy approached to sniff him out. This should have been the reassurance Sam needed, but his natural instincts left him to distrust the entire situation. Even the affection of a good dog was more than he was used to and therefore something to take with a grain of salt. Sam let the dog out and walked the yard, ensuring the fence would keep the dog in without a leash. Their breaths puffs against the biting chill in the dawn air. Sam was happy they weren’t going to have to keep him penned inside when they went to work.

Work; Sam Winchester had a job waiting for him Monday morning. He was going to be in the archives of the local college, which he was oddly grateful for, familiar toils in an unfamiliar setting was better than nothing. He made his way to the blessed coffee pot, his stomach growled, and he replied under his breath, “yeah, yeah.”

Upstairs Emery stared at the ceiling, the morning light casting streaks of color through the accent windows that met in the corner of their room. Their, shared, as in both hers and his. She had a roommate, an actual partner, a husband now. This deal was as complicated as it could get. The reassurance of the angelic influence had run dry; she felt very much trapped. And ashamed. She shuffled into the adjoining bath and tossed her pajamas into the hamper. The massive shower tried to make amends for the drain on her soul and resolve, jets coming from the walls at amazing angles, hot water pelting against her exhausted body. Her hands brushed past the places where Sam had held her, pinned her, pleased her. She knew it was a means to an end, sealing a deal and starting fresh. But Emery needed this to work. She had to go forward doing good with her life, otherwise, everything, every choice and every memory was all in vain. She finished her shower and decided to make breakfast, everyday needed a solid foundation. Every agreement needed a stepping off point.

**Two Months Later**

Emery dragged her feet on Thursdays. She had office hours starting at ten, otherwise nothing until her one and three o’clock lectures. Sam never did, he was up at six like always. Bandit loved the early mornings jogs and Emery liked taking over Sam’s side of the bed. The weather had finally turned into a promising spring, bringing damp feet and panting breaths home with her two boys. Well, two of her boys. She lay in the cocoon of blankets as she heard them in the kitchen. Soon Sam would be back to wake her up, sweaty and insistent. She kept her eyes shut tight, waiting for her good morning kisses.

“You are such a faker,” he teased, falling to her hip, caging her in with his arms.

“Five more minutes,” she pleaded, turning her face into the mound of pillows.

“Let’s go Doctor Simmons, you have students to teacher,” Sam ruffled her hair, earning himself a good swat.

“Hey, that’s Simmons-Winchester to you, punk,” Emery sassed, finally facing Sam. He had leaned in, hovering with a look of an unexpected tenderness.

His deep voice came out in a breathy whisper, “if you get up now, we can share a shower.” The hairs on the back of Emery’s neck stood up at his offer, heart beating just a hint faster. Something had shifted in the past few weeks; they had become cohesive, and as insatiable as true newlyweds. Most importantly: Emery felt that Sam had started to truly trust her, and she had started to lean on him in return.

She raised her eyebrows as she replied, “you just want me to shave your back.”

Sam chuckled. “Guilty— it’s just so much—” Sam broke off, “you know what, never mind.” He gave her a sad smile and squeezed her thigh through the comforter before standing to head to the bathroom.

“Whoa, hey, what are you hiding Mister?!” Emery threw the covers back and chased after him, giggling as he turned and scooped her up by the legs, strutting into the bathroom before kicking the door closed.

“Your nails, I love feeling them, and it’s not the same if I’m all wolfish,” Sam whispered into Emery’s ear, feeling her shiver from the stimulus. He loved watching her react to his every tease and taunt.

She groaned, grabbing his face in both her hands. “Fine! Asshole. But you better make it worth it.” She was pointing a finger at his agreeing puppy dog face now.

“Don’t I always?” Sam challenged, walking straight into the shower stall, fully clothed and dropping Emery in a huff on the cold tile.

Emery arrived at her first lecture a mere ten minutes early, greeting her TA’s as they sorted through last week’s essays to return. One of her freshmen had kept her hostage with worry over their coming midterm exam. She tried to placate the overachiever, but school was still life or death to these kids, if only they knew what those terms truly meant. She felt a tension in the air and tried to sense what was going on amongst the grad students, but unfortunately, she had given up that ability in pursuit of her deal with Naomi. Instead, she went for the obvious.

“So, what’s going on guys?” Her smoky voice catching their attentions.

“Papers. Just alphabetizing papers,” Jasper replied, overenthusiastically. Emery gave him a knowing look, gauging the other three’s sheepish expressions more harshly.

“Sure, okay, but apparently Morgan and Penelope are on the outs? Is that what’s going on? Because it’s not the time or place for your personal drama.”

“Sorry, Dr. Sim-Win, it’s just—” Penelope implored. Emery held up her hands silencing the blonde before she got the full run down.

“I have the spreadsheets with the grades here, why don’t you post them for me, Hector?” Emery gave the remaining TA’s a cool stare before walking to the lectern as the undergrads started trickling into the hall in a post lunch haze.

It was Sam’s turn to cook, allowing Emery to take her time at school, going over her notes for an inter-departmental meeting the next morning. Joining the school for the spring semester left her jumping through hoops to catch up and network. It was hard learning everyone and everything over from her previous position, luckily the material she taught rarely changed; the blessing of being a History professor. Sam usually worked until six, even though most of his team left on five on the dot, no questions asked. He told her he liked being alone with the stacks, the quiet was comforting.

She checked her watch before closing the spreadsheet she had been zoning out over and headed down to the library that housed the archives. She had started parking in the lot on the far end of campus, even on days when they didn’t drive in together. It was an easy routine and it kept her from circling campus trying to remember where she had parked. Not that she would do such an airheaded thing, more than twice. There were only a handful of faculty cars remaining as she pulled out of her spot, hoping Sam had enough of a head start on dinner; she was famished.

Bandit greeted Emery at the backdoor, barking over the music Sam had blaring through the house. She left her stuff in the breezeway and snagged the leash before settling in.

“Hey, fifteen minutes tops!” Sam called over his shoulder. She gave him an answering wave as the dog dragged her back outside, the lingering spices had her stomach growling. The music had been turned down and the table set by the time Bandit had let Emery drag him home. They ate themselves stuffed; the meal was a Jambalaya-like concoction with homemade bread. Sam had enjoyed cooking in a way he never had before, because on some level he was still used to being on the receiving end of a homecooked meal. It was nice to be able to experiment with the cuisine, besides, Emery only had about a three-meal repertoire.

Later on, the couple sat in bed, watching their latest show on their wall mounted flat screen. Bandit curled at their feet until it was time for light’s out, when Sam would let him out one last time. In the interim, Sam checked the windows and doors, ensured there were guns accessible on every level of the house, though he wasn’t sure he would fire one if he had to. As soon as the dog was back inside, Sam set the alarm. Upstairs, he soon shut the bedroom door, leaving Bandit alone to roam the house.

Emery snuggled against his chest and sighed in an exaggerated contentment, lips drawing up in a mischievous smile. Sam kissed her hair and shook his head at her intentions, smirking knowingly.

“We’re in this together, for better or worse,” she promised, like she had the past sixty-odd nights.

“For better or worse,” Sam agreed with a goodnight kiss. As he lay there in the darkness, feeling her shift against him, he was stunned by the comfort and ease he felt with Emery. He didn’t know what he would do without her now and he certainly didn’t know what he did without her before.


	3. Below the Surface and In the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is a doll. A sneak peek into what life was like those rough, first, few weeks. Then the newlyweds unknowingly start to understand just what being bound on a soul-level means.
> 
> Warnings: Mixed reality, magical persuasion.
> 
> Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC
> 
> OCs: Bandit (their dog), Sam’s coworkers Gretchen, Lourdes and Cady. Neighbors: Trudy and Jason Schneider and their dogs Mox and Sho.

One morning, inside the library building and down two flights of stairs, Sam approached his cubby, which housed notes for his current project, a small wireless speaker and a picture of Emery and Bandit, taken when he was a puppy. This trek toward work only reminded Sam how old he actually was, relative to his coworkers, at least. Gretchen was helping Lourdes fill out her taxes with an online program, as this was the first time the young woman had held a job. They were two of many graduate students that made up most of the labor for the archive department, though Sam worked full time. A position, though he had been teased for nepotism, he quite enjoyed. At this point in the term, he had given up reminding the twenty-somethings that Emery had just started with the school as well. He had started drowning out the phrase “trophy husband”, however, as they not so quietly gossiped.

Luckily, Sam was almost positive to be left in peace, as he was transferring video footage from guest lecturers from the 80s and 90s into digital files for the school’s preservation society, in one of the soundproof rooms due to the availability of the allotted equipment. He didn’t need it to be silent, but it wouldn’t stop him from taking advantage of the location. Somewhere between fall ’84 and spring ’85, Cady knocked on the heavy door. Sam had very little interaction with the former volleyball player, but it wasn’t for her lack of trying. She smiled until he removed the headphones he wore, teeth pristine against spray tanned skin. Even post spring break, no one was that shade naturally.

“Hey, we’re going to the union for lunch, did you want to join us?” Cady cocked her head to the side with a hand on her hip, toe twisting at the end of her oh so long legs.

“I’m good, thanks,” Sam nodded and turned back to checking volume levels on what had transferred so far. He felt her linger behind him, but he didn’t look back until the door clicked shut. Sam closed his eyes in relief.

Once he heard voices in the common area, Sam ducked out for his own late lunch walk. He hated being stagnant for hours on end, even if he didn’t remember it, his body was used to roller coastering between seated research and quick intensive work outs. It was a Tuesday, a day that always sat wrong with him. He found himself wandering towards Owens Hall, following the steady flow of traffic into the massive building. Just as the doors were closing to Lecture Room B, Sam slipped inside and found the last aisle seat, near the middle of the auditorium. As soon as Emery stood and offered a cordial good afternoon, the hall fell silence. Sam didn’t notice the small grin that had seated itself on his face as he watched her pace in front of her projected bullet points as she spoke. She wove her lecture like a narrative, intriguing and informative, it was almost a performance to hear her speak of the Crusades instead of course work.

Halfway through the allotted time, Sam remembered he was supposed to be back to work, and he stood at an angle to duck out of the hall unnoticed.

“Excuse me, but the lecture isn’t finished,” a stern voice called to him from the stage. The students whispered in both mockery and annoyance as Sam got called out for interrupting.

“Sorry, I was just stopping by—my lunch break is over.” Sam nodded, frowning in chagrin.

“So, you’re rude AND decided to waste my students’ time, the same people who are paying to be here?” Emery raised her eyebrows at Sam, a sinister tilt to her painted lips.

“I guess so– Sorry, about that. I just wanted to see the hot new History professor I heard about,” Sam spat back, putting some humiliation on her plate as well. The crowd erupted.

“I’ll be going though, don’t want to waste anymore of y’all’s time,” he called over the fuss.

She bit her lip as he turned to go, cursing under her breath. As soon as the door closed behind his flanneled back, Emery was back in professor mode.

“Alright, that’s enough, he’s my husband—don’t get too excited.”

Come six o’clock, Sam beat Emery to their crossover, though he could have kept working. It was tedious and any of the grad students could have taken the project, it was just nice to have a reason to stop for the day. Sam hadn’t allowed himself this kind romance in what felt like lifetimes and without the ability to pinpoint why, he was holding fast to his marriage, his partnership. Leaning on someone he respected was natural to Sam and he felt doubly blessed to have a woman like Emery to be there to support him, day in and day out. It was a small, simple life, but it is was theirs.

They had plans with their neighbors Trudy and Jason, which they had rescheduled once already because Bandit had a go with a skunk. They were nice people, but Sam was still adjusting to the social expectations of living nearby other couples in their thirties. New town meant new friends, right? That’s what Emery had kept telling him, trying to brush off some of his awkwardness. As he waited, he caught up with the news on his phone, preferring to lean against the car than inside it. Though it had the headspace, not a lot of vehicles had the leg space for him to sit comfortably and it felt less creepy of him, somehow. It’s not like he was on a stakeout, why would he sit inside the car?

Emery clicked the unlock button on her keys, intentionally startling Sam from his latest article.

“Crash any good lectures today?” She taunted, leaning up for a quick kiss.

“Ha-ha,” was his only reply. She tossed her bags in the backseat before sliding into the driver’s spot. They drove home easily, flirty glances and light banter, the sounds of NPR in the background. Sam took the dog for a walk while Emery changed, and she prepped the dessert she bought while he did.

Cheesecake and wine in hand, they strolled out the back door, over the sidewalk a whopping sixty feet and were then promptly greeted by Jason and Trudy’s two rottweilers, all by seven o’clock sharp. Jason kneed his way to the door before taking Mox and Sho by the collar to allow their guests inside. Sam, handed Emery the wine before leaning down to greet the dogs, letting Emery present their gifts. Jason, both burly and gregarious, nodded to the back of the house to the kitchen where Trudy was finishing up. The conversation flowed easily over the dogs as everyone calmed down with the company.

“Now, I know you can’t partake, but I figured–,” Emery was nearly apologizing to the very pregnant Trudy over the passing of the bottle of wine. The somehow still lanky redhead waved off Emery’s concern.

“My doctor says a half a glass at this point won’t do anything besides let me relax and with those boys eating through the latest diaper bag—I could use it,” Trudy shrugged. “How’s your week been?”

The two couples ate al fresco, enjoying the Schneider’s large deck, on the back of their house built when they moved in four years before, along with the matching eight-foot fence. Emery kept her free hand on Sam’s thigh while they got settled, but after a few glasses of wine, they were all chuckling easily. Trudy had grilled steaks and asparagus that rivaled celery stalks in size. Jason had tried a couscous recipe which everyone politely and silently agreed to never speak of it again.

“Man, I gotta say, I’m glad we did this,” Jason handed out mushy bear hugs at the door.

“Anytime,” Sam replied, patting Jason on the back as he grabbed Emery.

“Yeah? Nice! Didn’t scare you off,” Jason teased. “Seriously though, after those first couple’a weeks I thought you were a douche.”

“And now?” Sam swallowed, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Jury’s still out,” Trudy dropped out of left field, causing everyone to break away with their own laughter. “Don’t be strangers just because my husband can’t cook.”

Perhaps they hadn’t all agreed to leave it be. With a signature awkward wave and a tugging at his elbow, Sam turned toward home. On his arm, Emery was humming from the gentle buzz of her share of the bottles of wine. Sam struggled to remember what would have made Jason say what he had.

Sam hadn’t been paying attention, but a passing glance at the date stamped on the sub/reddit he was reading made his blood run cold. It was Dean’s birthday, his fortieth. They needed answers, a timeframe, something. He deserved to know that this was all worth it, that it was working. Emery came home an hour later to find Sam sitting in the dining room, that they had yet to use. A third of a bottle of Johnny Walker gone.

“Hey, everything okay?” She held her stomach as uncertainty and alarm battled to creep out of her cool demeanor as accusations. She didn’t know much about Sam yet, but that much alcohol that quickly wasn’t good for anyone.

Sam turned and his lip curled in spite. “What’s it matter? It’s all in their hands now isn’t? We just play house and wait on the angels. Like that ever really worked before.”

“Sam, we both, we need this—" Emery looked to her feet as her throat thickened.

“Save it. I know. I’ll play the part. It doesn’t mean I am going to be quiet about them leaving us in the dark,” Sam snapped at the ceiling.

“So, what, you’re just gonna get drunk and scream at the sky? Really?” Emery huffed and walked away. “Classy.”

He dried out in time to go to church with Emery on Sunday morning, the sanctuary feeling much smaller than it had during their private ceremony the week before. The reverend commented on his change of facial hair and Sam smiled at the implication that he didn’t need to impress Emery anymore. He had already landed her. Sam cocked his head and took a few deep breaths, his shoulders and lungs straining as if in a vice, desperate he excused himself from the coffee hour crowd and into the stark gray morning.

That night Emery went to bed alone again, leaving Sam to pass out on the couch as he pretended to watch something in the den. She fell asleep with tears in her eyes and a lamenting prayer on her lips.

The more Sam thought about it, the more it felt like he was chasing smoke. Nothing stuck and his mind felt blank. All of the sudden, he was upstairs, watching Emery peel off her clothes. When his ass hit the bed, she sauntered over to stand between his legs, nimble fingers threading through his hair. That was enough of a distraction to leave the concern for another day.

**April 23, 2019**

There are days and there are dates, some days suck, while some dates are entombed in the psyche. Birthdays, anniversaries, heartbreaks and deaths: dates that could be forgotten, but usually aren’t. Some that should be forgotten, but refuse to leave the confines of memory, seeping into the very soul. It is a date as such that pierced through, causing Emery to wake up at 3:26 in a cold sweat, arms heavy with emptiness and head throbbing with unshed tears. She slipped out of bed and down to the den, the moment her foot moved from the last step to the hardwood floor, Bandit was at her knee, knowing something was the matter.

Dogs are some of the greatest blessings in the lives of humans, even when those humans don’t deserve their unconditional comfort, perhaps especially then. Emery sank down on the staircase, all-consuming grief over taking her as she held Bandit to her chest, burying her face against the thick strands covering his neck. The hollowness inside ruptured into the stillness of the predawn quiet, reverberating in the large empty rooms of their playhouse. As needed as Bandit was, he was still a portion of her life before, signifying what she had lost and how far she had yet to go. He was reality incarnate, a touchstone even. There they sat, one mystified, one overrun with sorrow until Sam broke their trance as he called from the landing.

“Baby? What is it? What happened?” Heavy yet agile foot falls announced his progress until he slipped behind her, wiping her hair from her face where it stuck in sweat and tears. His eyes searched for injury, for entry, for any disturbance at all. The room and her body were as right as rain, yet she cried, and Sam let her. Feeling not lost at her inexplicable melancholy, but awash with it. He clung to her, and Emery leaned into him; life rafts and castaways in the same storm.

Moments or minutes later, they stood and stretched, no less in pain, but slaves to their bodies’ needs; they broke apart. Slowly they began their day, quiet and uncertain of what it would bring. If this storm would pass as quickly as it came or, if it was a hovering sort. As the hours floated by, each in their respective autopilot politeness at work and in the neighborhood. During an unenthused walk with Bandit, Sam realized just how much he had been empathizing with Emery. It was at the forefront of his every thought, this drilling sadness. Buildings or miles apart, he still felt it in the hidden corners of his very being. Whatever this was, he wasn’t sure he could stand such unfounded torture for long.

Back home, up the dark stairs and through the closed door of their bedroom, Emery sat on her side of the bed. Once Sam came out from brushing his teeth, she tried to give him a grateful smile. “Sorry about today, it sort of hit me out of nowhere.”

Sam inhaled and nodded, pulling back the covers and holding his arms open for her to crawl into. “Can I ask what had you so upset?”

“Today is— just a tough day for me. It was once a beautiful memory, but–,” her voice cracking once more. Sam shushed her as she once again started to cry.

“It’s okay, we’re in this together. I got you,” Sam whispered into her hair.

“For better or worse?” The first time it was a question more than a promise.

“For better or worse,” Sam sealed their goodnight ritual. They fell asleep, emotionally depleted and awoke as if the day before had been like any other.

^*^*^


	4. In Heaven Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a day out. We catch a glimpse of Dean’s side of the deal. A sudden visitor rocks whatever framework is holding Sam and Emery in their bubble.
> 
> Warnings: Mind probes, suggested smut, mangled magic.

“History never repeats itself, but it often rhymes.”

\- attributed to Mark Twain

The Bunker was quieter than usual, Mary had the AW hunters on cases and oddly Castiel was nowhere to be found. Jack felt the loneliness as if it were a companion, solid and expressive beside him. Jiminy Cricket on his shoulder, whispering to him, that if he was going to do this, it was now or never. He squinted against the remnants of Sam and Dean in his mind, knowing they wouldn’t want him to go looking for them. But no one had, and it had been months since Naomi had whisked them both away, barely a day apart. Jack had learned a lot since they had left, he knew what he was doing. At least he believed he did.

He didn’t take the Impala, that would be too obviously missed. Instead, he took one of the antique motorcycles that Dean had tuned up in the short span between Michael and then Naomi. Once he was a mile down the road, he realized he wouldn’t be able to fit a Winchester on the small seat with him. He shook his head, thoughts getting ahead of himself. One problem at a time, Jackie. He made sure to follow the speed limit and pay extra attention through towns and on interstates. He wished for his powers the farther he got from home, the more phone calls he left unanswered. He just wanted to get there, to figure this out, to bring them home.

The playground was empty, no guardian angel or passersby. Jack paced the sandbox, uncertain what would happen if he stood inside without the usual bellhop, without permission and defiantly without invitation. He wished Castiel was there but stopped the thought before it became too prayerful. He didn’t want to get caught, never wanted to disappoint his dads. They had saved him, done the impossible; how couldn’t he do the same for them? He squared his shoulders and stepped forward, calling with his thoughts to the angels on the other end of the portal. A hopeful prayer heavenward.

^*^*^

Dean’s body was still, lying on the sterile table where it had been for the duration of his stay. The macabre crown of electrodes around his head holding the angel inside him in place without being able to separate the man from the archangel. Dean Winchester, Michael’s sword, held fast to the cage in his mind and the angel held fast to his vessel. Michael’s presence had restored some balance to the power shortage in Heaven; Naomi didn’t have to force something that neither party was willing to give. Contrary to every inch of deal she made. It was unprecedented after all, discoveries took time. Trial and error and patience. Yes, she was being diligent in the waiting.

Behind the freckled skin and chiseled bone, within the eternal plane of Heaven but beyond their grasp, Dean Winchester sat with his hands on the wheel of an all too familiar black Chevy. Beside him, Michael sat in the passenger seat, wearing his face and that stupid cabbie hat, smug as ever.

“We’re going to have to stop for fuel eventually, Dean,” Michael said passively, eyes darting into the night, their other constant companion.

“Yeah, well, she’s not even half a tank yet,” Dean grumbled back, turning the volume dial. He let the cab fill with Zeppelin and kept his eyes forward, staying between the lines, true as ever.

^*^*^

Emery felt a broad swipe of warmth, from her knee to her waist, pinching as it went, pulling her back into a wall, full of heat and ridges. Sam nuzzled the hair at the nape of her neck, where it curled when she sweat, nipping at the salt and spice of her. He rocked into the softness of her backside, prodding and moaning with the pre-waking contentment. She reached back, tugging at his hair, rolling towards him and dragging those coaxing lips to hers. He caged her in, with unrushed hums and lazy grazes, stubble, fingers, knuckles. Weekends were bliss.

They showered, just to need another. Sam put every inch of their massive stall to use, making Emery feel half her age, for the eighteen or so hours before the sore muscles hit them both. Before that reality sank in, they let their day lead them. Finding new places in the city that they had come to thrive in. It was their third Saturday trying out dog parks and it seemed that Bandit knew what they had planned before they even managed to finish their post workout brunch. Like all the others, the park was crowded, people milling around as their fur babies fetched or chased after one another. Bandit stayed within eye shot of his people, he was just a bit overwhelmed and needed their reassurance as much as they needed his.

They recognized a few dog-owners from their neighborhood but knew that Jason and Trudy wouldn’t be meeting them this time. They were hunkered down, waiting for her to go into labor at any moment. Emery didn’t envy their waiting game yet was wistful for pieces she couldn’t say out loud. She walked to grab them coffees from a cart, trusting Sam to keep Bandit moving. Sam sprinted away from the cluster of people letting out a fierce whistle, earning a few replies from nearby dogs. But Bandit knew it was meant for him, running in earnest, mouth hanging open as he chased down those jean-covered legs. He got happy scratches and lots of ‘good boys’ that day. Bandit liked weekends too. Then a weird man approached asking questions in a deep level tone.

“That’s an interesting combination of breeds. How long have you had him?”

“Well, he was my wife’s first, he’s part Irish Setter, but not sure what else,” Sam replied to the trench coated man.

“You’re married?” The man asked in surprise.

Sam furrowed his brow at the stranger. “Uh, yeah. Sorry buddy.”

He held up his left hand and started to walk back toward the crowds.

“Wait, Sam,” Castiel called after him.

“Whoa, man, look, I don’t know you—” Sam turned and faced his pursuer once more whose face came into drastic focus now, bluer eyes than he had ever seen. Sam suddenly lost his footing, hands reaching to his head, the last thing he heard was his name said in muddied voices and Bandit whimpering at his knee. He smelled jasmine and coffee and felt the midday sun on his eyelids, but every thought left him like skipping stones across a wind-free lake. Then he heard it again, his name, no longer hoarse, but smoky and insistent.

“Sam! What happened?” Emery shook his shoulder, looking in all directions, heat flooding her cheeks as the onlookers continued to circle around them. “Hey, stud, can you hear me? You in there?”

Sam groaned, brain sloshing against the earth’s orbit and gravity itself.

“He’s fine, thanks.” She had her professor voice on. “Let’s sit you up. Sooner we’re out of here the better.”

If there weren’t dozens of sets of eyes on them already, perhaps Emery would have noticed the pair near the far patch of trees. Watching them with pursed lips and timeless patience, Castiel had found Sam at last. Instead, Emery ditched their coffees and dragged Sam to his feet, trying to balance his weight as she guided him back to their car. Embarrassed and annoyed as strangers tried to interject with help, she called Bandit, who instinctively took Sam’s other side, saving his people more unnecessary attention.

“There was a guy,” the first discernible phrase out of Sam came as they were nearly home.

“A guy? Did he hit you? Crap, I didn’t check for your wallet,” Emery scolded herself.

“I wasn’t robbed. He, uh, he asked about Bandit.” Sam squinted, trying to remember. “I think I knew him, but now, I don’t know it’s fuzzy. I can’t even tell you what he looked like.”

“Well, maybe you just whacked your head chasing after Banders, I mean, you get ahead of yourself sometimes.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam looked out the passenger side window, watching the trees and houses float by.

“You feel okay otherwise?” Emery appraised Sam at a red light.

“I guess so. Just my head is kind of fuzzy,” Sam shrugged, but his jaw kept working over something.

“Okay, well, take it easy tonight and we’ll play it from there,” Emery said down her nose before turning back to the road. The pale boat of a car behind them turned in a hurry, barely registering in their rearview mirror.


	5. A Husband of Integrity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shitty way to spend a birthday.
> 
> Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester OFC  
Other Characters: OCs Bandit (their dog), Toby, Cady, Gretchen and Lourdes (Sam’s coworkers), Jason and Trudy Schneider (neighbors) and their dogs Mox and Sho, Castiel
> 
> Season 14 AU

“The rain began again. It fell heavily, easily, with no meaning or intention but the fulfillment of its own nature, which was to fall and fall.” - Helen Garner

^*^*^

Lourdes was late, which pushed the entire meeting back, that led to casual discussion as they waited for the visual side of the presentation. Gretchen had brought cookies and there was the ever-running coffee maker in the corner, which left Sam with the ultimate dilemma: eat and be dissatisfied or refuse the nutrient lacking offerings and end up a hangry ass. He spotted a pile of oatmeal cookies on one side of the massive tray and he took a chance; they were going to be there awhile, might as well not suffer doubly. Cady kept asking him questions specific to his lecture preservation project, eating would stop him from having to keep talking. Luckily, Toby interjected on her next circle back, intentionally or not, saving Sam from being the center of conversation. Twenty minutes into the meeting, Lourdes stormed in, soaked from head to toe and clutching her laptop case in a garbage bag. So much for April being the month of showers, thought Sam.

Another ten minutes of set up and they were in business, Sam checked his watch and then sent Emery a quick text, keeping his phone on silent so as not to interrupt Toby and Lourdes’s introduction. Cady was anything but discrete as she shifted her seat towards Sam, ‘to get a better angle’. He sighed and sank back into his chair, legs stretched out before him, hands resting on his lap. The changes for the summer and fall semester were all logical organizational adjustments, which Sam appreciated. He just had to stay focused and not let the constant glances from his left make him anymore uncomfortable.

Across campus, in an office overlooking a courtyard and Owens Hall, Emery checked her phone.

“Just getting started here, looks like you’ll have to grab the dogs afterall. Sorry. X”

Emery huffed, exasperated that Sam had to work late on his birthday, not that he even seemed to notice. But she knew grad students, and as reliable as they were, they tended to only worry as long as those depending on them would. She had to adjust her plans and make a run to doggie daycare for Jason. Trudy had given birth to a plump little boy two days prior and Sam had been helping by running the dogs back and forth for them as they adjusted. Bandit had joined the beefy Rottweilers for the first time, and Emery was curious to see how he handled the chaos.

Once she was ready to go, Emery maneuvered through the buildings as best she could, avoiding long stretches in the downpour to get to Sam’s roomier car. As she entered the parking lot, there was a figure lingering among the bushes along the far side. She didn’t blame them to be out of the rain, but there were plenty of better places to wait. She fisted her keys and kept walking. Unintentionally, she reached out with her thoughts, searching for intent or any passing fancy of the person in shadow. All too quickly she realized how fruitless it was; she wasn’t that woman anymore. She couldn’t do, that. Shaking her head, Emery tried to not let the weather test her already thinning patience. Once she was safe inside the car, she shot Sam texts letting him know she grabbed his car, that she’d grab dinner and see him at home.

^*^*^

The barrage of messages lighting up Sam’s screen, did not go unnoticed, Cady simply raised a disapproving eyebrow and returned to watching Gretchen’s presentation. It was after eight before they staggered out of the Library basement, stretching out their limbs just to linger in the foyer, with whiney delay.

“So, who’s going to The Brutal Poodle? Sam, you’re going, it’s your birthday, so don’t even try backing out,” Cady broke the weather-defeated group into whoops of excitement. Sam shook his head and looked in Cady’s eyes with cautious challenge.

“How do you even know that?” He couldn’t help but smirk slightly.

“I’m good.” She simply shrugged. “First round’s on Lourdes for being late a.f.!”

“Screw you Cady! Fine! But you’re buying appetizers,” Lourdes retorted in her crisp accent.

They shuffled out towards their cars, almost missing the guest of honor slipping off toward the other end of campus. But Sam Winchester wasn’t extremely stealthy on an empty campus in the now gently falling rain. Cady was waiting at Emery’s car in her cherished Charger. She climbed out, pulling her jean jacket tighter to her, folding her arms just so.

“I can’t believe you tried to bail on your own birthday,” she teased, leaning against his driver’s side door.

“Yeah, I gotta get home. Thanks for the sentiment, but I think you guys will have just as much fun without the old married guy hanging around.” Sam was being as cordial as he could be.

“What if we want you there?” Cady stepped forward, her face just inches from Sam’s. “What if I want you—there?”

Sam looked to the heavens and off across the roof of Emery’s car, it had finally happened. He swallowed and cleared his throat, refusing to make eye contact. “I have plans with my wife, Cady. Please, let me get in the car now?”

“She knows you’re running late. She didn’t stop harassing you with texts all night, let her wait,” Cady purred.

“That’s—” Sam stammered, brow pitching in frustration.

“She did! Come out with us. Just relax a little, Sammy,” Cady pulled at his jacket collar as Sam froze in place. That nickname struck a nerve and he had to stop himself from shoving the girl off of him. Thunder rumbled overhead and the rain picked up again.

“Get off of me, Cady, I mean it,” Sam growled, hands in fists in his pockets.

“Okay, okay, geez,” Cady pouted. “Go run home to Emery, like a good boy.”

Sam huffed in amusement as the girl tried to insult him before stomping back to her car. “I will. Have a nice night.”

“Fuck you,” she muttered, slamming the heavy door closed, looking like a drowned rat.

^*^*^

At home, Emery was having about as much luck at a smooth evening as Sam was, Mox had run to the back of his house the moment Emery opened the backseat, leaving Emery to restrain Bandit and Sho from following suit. There was no way to get them inside without being soaked and now, one of them, muddy. She fell up the three steps leading from the sidewalk to the Schneiders’ front path, ripping her pants at the knee. “Ow! Damn dogs,” she shrieked into the storm.

Finally, Jason spotted her and came out to grab Sho. They cornered Mox at the back gate and got him into the yard, at least. In the end, they couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, though only briefly as Bandit yapped to go home, his thin body dripping. Emery wondered if her hair looked as bad as his did. Stomping into the mudroom, Bandit shook off all over her. She let out another groan of defeat, deciding tonight was foiled. Though perhaps, wine, lots of wine and a hot, foamy bath could salvage what was left of it.

^*^*^

Sam stood in the downpour, watching Cady drive off before he turned his back to slide into Emery’s hybrid. He wiped his face off, pulling the water off at the chin before whipping his drenched hair back against the headrest. He pulled the lever beneath the chair to slide it back, freeing his legs to drive. He checked his mirrors: side views and finally the rear view. Then time seemed to stop, and his stomach clenched.

“Hello, Sam,” greeted the stranger from the dog park, who sat waiting in the backseat.

^*^*^


	6. Later the Truth Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a chat and Emery has a bath, with a flashback into forgotten days.
> 
> Warnings: Mangled magic, dissecting illusions
> 
> Special shout out to MJ Incogninja for beta reading this installment for me.

“What the hell?!” Sam snapped, spinning in the driver’s seat to face this, this stalker.

“Calm down. I just want to talk,” Castiel replied brusquely.

“Yeah, well, ever heard of the phone? Or a damn email? Who even are you?!” Sam held up his hands waiting for answers.

“My name is Castiel, and I’m your friend, Sam. You and your brother, Dean, tend to call me Cas, for short. It’s sort of a nickname,” he over-explained.

“I know what a nickname is,” Sam pinched his eyes, the headache had returned full force. Though he felt stable, not close to blacking out again. Not yet at least. “But what I don’t know is how you know me or that I had a brother named Dean.”

“Had? What do you mean had, Sam?” Cas’s jaw jutted out, sitting up to hear what this version of Sam could be talking about.

“Had. As in past tense, Dean died of a heart condition like twelve, thirteen years ago.” Sam watched the weird man process the information. “Why? Does it matter?”

“The spell is more complicated than I imagined, they not only hoodwinked you into being in love with that woman— they completely rewrote your past,” Castiel peered into Sam’s eyes with the intensity of a microsurgeon.

“Whoa, buddy. Easy there. That woman is my wife, and she’s amazing.” Sam tried to get the man to relax, to realize how insane he sounded. “You okay? You need a ride somewhere? A doctor maybe?”

“No, I am not ill,” Cas answered unironically. “Though, you seem to be quite muddled.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me off guard. Excuse me for being pissed about it,” Sam snapped before locking onto this Castiel’s gaze once more, seeing him completely and with startling familiarity. “How do we know each other? What am I missing here?”

^*^*^

She probably should have eaten something or sipped rather than chugged the wine. Emery was flushed with more than the jets from the tub. Slowly she was able to let the day’s disappointments sink to the back of her mind and just be. No super professor mode, no chipper neighbor filter, no patient and dutiful wife efforts, she was just her. Which wasn’t something she got to do very often, in this life or the life she left behind. When Emery wasn’t working or being for someone else, it got very loud in her head. But tonight, though the thoughts were there, she decided to just push them back, to let them hold her up instead of weighing her down. Emery decided to float above the worries in the fuzzy heat of a drunken bath.

This was ridiculous. There she lay, in a huge tub in a huge house in an overpriced neighborhood. She started to laugh at herself, at Sam, even at Bandit, wherever he had gotten to. She was a freakin’ professor at an amazing school. This was the dream. A dream she got out of nightmares. She didn’t deserve this place, she didn’t need it, it was too much. Suddenly she started to cry, tears leaked down her face, which only made her laugh harder. The absurdity of it all.

Emery inhaled and sank beneath the few remaining bubbles, hovering in stasis until her lungs brought her surfacing. She exhaled. Letting her bangs fall as they may, she hid beneath the mask of heavy, wet reality. Gravity won in the end, and she crawled from the drained tub and burrowed into Sam’s oversized robe. It wasn’t overly soft like hers, though it was thick and comforting, but mostly it smelled like his aftershave. She started working the conditioner into her hair, twisting and pinning it for the night. She was half-assing it and she didn’t care. She swayed absently on the balls of her feet to a playlist as she finished putting her hair up. There, close enough; she had her scarf secured before she scampered downstairs, robe hem dragging behind her like a train.

The haunting blue of the clock above the range glared at her, shuffling into her relaxation like an unsignaled merger. What was keeping Sam?

^*^*^

“Is there somewhere we can talk? I don’t think this is the best place to do this,” Castiel suggested. Sam couldn’t help but agree, a public place would be safer. And much less creepy, as long as the guy didn’t slit his throat the second, he faced forward. Unconsciously, Sam started driving to the bar Cady had suggested, but stopped before the final turn.

He cleared his throat. “You hungry? Emery was going to bring home dinner, but I can just get a drink—if you want.”

“I don’t eat,” Castiel explained.

“Of course, you don’t,” Sam grumbled, pulling into the parking lot beside the chain bar and grill. Appetizers and a stiff drink sounded like manna from heaven at this point in his day. Sam didn’t know why he was hearing Castiel out, but he somehow knew to trust him. To listen, to wait until all the information was explained before deciding on his sanity. Call it instinct or something deeper, Sam wanted him to feel heard.

Once they were settled, drinks in hand, Sam decided to press back. “So, why don’t you eat?”

“This is just a vessel, my grace sustains me and this form,” Cas replied leadingly.

“Your grace?” Sam’s brow furrowed and a smirk played on his lips, despite the constant tension in his jaw.

“I’m an angel, Sam. Much like Naomi, the one who put you in this situation. And apparently buried your memories. Of me. Of Dean and what brought you to this town, away from your family and your calling,” Castiel prodded back, looking for any blip in Sam’s eyes, any wavering, any weakness.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “My family? I don’t have anyone, man. All I have is Emery and Bandit, and that’s more than I could ask for,” Sam explained. “My mom died when I was a baby, Dean when I was in college and Dad right after that. Why do you think you know anything about my family?!”

Castiel sighed. “I really am an angel, you know. I’m not saying these things to upset you, Sam. I am saying them to see where it started and try and pull back the curtain, as one would say. To reveal what they’ve been hiding from you. I need to search your thoughts and it would be much faster if I could just see what was there.”

“What? Dude. That’s just—” Sam froze, Castiel didn’t wait for an opening, he simply placed two fingers on Sam’s forehead. Suddenly the pain from looking at the self-proclaimed angel started to wane, as their surroundings became overwhelming. The sounds of the patrons and the smells of the food and the beer spattered floor grew too much. Sam hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes, but just as he was about to be sick, Castiel’s fingers spread wider and a deep penetrating chill fell down his back. The nausea disappeared as quickly as Sam opened his eyes.

Perhaps there was something in his drink or maybe he was more exhausted than he thought, but in truth, inevitability had started to creep through the wall of reason and spell work inside Sam Winchester’s mind.

^*^*^

It was fine. There were no problems. He was just going to be late. It was only an hour passed the latest he could have possibly been at work. Things came up. It being his birthday, shouldn’t cause her any more alarm or distress. They were going to be alright. They were safe. Sam would be home soon. Wouldn’t he?

Emery had torn into the bag of caramel corn they’d bought for movie night as she worked through the possibilities in her head. Shoveling handfuls of the tacky sweet kernels into her mouth between checking her phone and looking to Bandit for explanation. The dog, though concerned, had little rebuttal to her teetering train of thought. He did his part by cleaning up after his mama. He was a good boy after all, and she was having a day. She grabbed a fresh bottle from the rack and poured herself another glass. Standing around stewing wasn’t bringing him home any faster and she would not lower herself to be the nagging wife. He was just late.

They had left off in the middle of a season of the latest edgy, politically charged amalgamation of horror and drama on the easily affordable default streaming service. She didn’t want to have to re-watch it when he finally arrived. Which was why, Emery flipped, blazing through the slew of options, from trending to suggested, nothing seemed to hit her fancy. When ‘Touched By An Angel’ appeared from the recesses of heartwarming and nostalgia she dropped the remote and finished her latest glass, tongue worrying over the latest crumb wedged in the back of her gum. She didn’t even want to think that they could be involved.

^*^*^

_Three months before_

_Dumah had her doubts about the whole thing. Naomi using Michael to fuel Heaven and keep the Winchesters apart and isolated, in attempts to keep them from them finding out. It was a knee jerk solution to a problem that was bigger than the few remaining angels could handle. So, she watched the newlyweds go about their days. Invisible, but ever present from their walks to their jobs and home again. She saw how miserable Sam was. How frustrated and untrusting he was of her kind. She also saw Emery, doing everything she could right. It was like the spark that had held them over from their vows never left her. That small dose of true love from the cupids had nestled inside the woman and held firm. Her faith and her determination only fueling the bond that had been formed._

_Dumah almost felt bad for her, but she had a stake in the deal too. She had an endgame, or at least a shiny carrot on the end of her stick just as Sam did. Perhaps her naivety helped the disguise, or maybe her need was that much greater than Sam’s. Either way, the angel knew that Emery wasn’t backing down. If this ruse was going to fall apart and leave Heaven at risk, clearly it wasn’t from the wife’s side of things. No, for this to succeed for as long as possible, Sam Winchester needed to be kept in line._

_She wasn’t ever there long; Heaven would have noticed her absences if she lingered. Instead Dumah made a game of the randomness of them: length, location, and target all varied. Occasionally it was just her and the dog, sitting in the winter afternoons. It was on the last week of their first month together that she had started hearing the prayers that Emery had been offering up to the Father that never listened._

_‘Make this work. Mold us into what is needed for your good works. Let me be enough.’_

_In the early morning hours, Dumah entered the den and watched Sam toss and turn. He had continued to refuse his wife’s offers to share their bed again. It was there, in Sam’s dreams, the maladjusted angel started building the bridge in his mind, slowly and carefully. She left, just as secretly as she arrived, but not before leaving something upstairs, an innocuous physical aid to bolster the fledgling marriage before it imploded._

^*^*^

“How did you meet Emery, Sam?” Castiel changed the subject on a dime, causing Sam to gasp as he gathered his bearings.

“Uh, a co-worker introduced us,” Sam nodded, a tired smile barely registering on his face. “What does that have to do with anything? Did you see my thoughts or just shove some serious vertigo at me?”

Cas didn’t flinch. “How long did you date?”

“Not long, why?” Sam signaled the bartender for another drink, before realizing Castiel hadn’t touched his.

“Why did you move here? Isn’t it odd to leave one place and pick up somewhere completely different? Especially between terms.”

“Emery got offered a better position,” Sam shrugged. “Listen, I’m all for playing nice here, but you still haven’t convinced me of anything. How are we somehow being used by angels? I mean, you make them sound like the bad guys.”

Castiel didn’t answer right away, instead he grimaced and thought about how to approach Sam, now that he had no history with him. As if he was a stranger needed convincing for the sake of someone, he thought dead.

“You said Dean died while you were in school. Were you with him when it happened?”

“I was—” Sam broke off as his mind reeled, a broken heaving Dean sprawled out on the floor of a stranger’s house. Blood was everywhere, his clothes and his body beneath them, torn to shreds by some invisible force. He closed his eyes, trying to see the memory he thought he knew. Only to be met by another image of Dean, older than he ever could have been. Heavy with anguish and satisfaction, his handsome face mutilated when he looked into Sam’s eyes. A single phrase surfaced, like a fist working against a thick pane, ‘proud of us’ pummeled repeatedly, until it broke through the barrier in Sam’s mind.

The moment Sam was back, Castiel saw it. In his eyes, the set of his shoulders, the tension in his hands. Sam gasped, and gritted his teeth. “Is Dean gone?”

The need to know flooding past the grief and bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered. “That’s what we’ve got to figure out.”

^*^*^


	7. Older Bonds and Deeper Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam comes home late and has to face the music. Jack continues his pursuit of answers. Castiel pushes on. Emery starts panicking on her own. Sam knows things.
> 
> Warnings: Show level experiments, nightmares, and suggested loss of a child.

_“You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.” - Anita Ofokansi_

Sam pulled Emery’s car behind his crossover, knowing they would have to switch their positions soon enough. It was just after one in the morning and Sam didn’t know what he was walking back into. Or who Emery was, really. He hoped she had gone to bed so he could take some more time to wrap his mind around what his life had become. He also knew he had fucked up by not calling and the shame was eating at him on one side, as the thought of not owing her an explanation scratched on the other. This was probably his worst birthday, yet. Cautiously, Sam approached the back door, but the motion detectors spotted him, and he had to ease in through the mudroom without much stealth.

He nudged a hamper full of wet clothes out of his way before stepping into the kitchen. Bandit’s tags then his nails on the tile floor raised Sam’s head in time to see Emery, blurry eyed and ridiculous with her scarf askew and his robe nearly tripping her as she met him. Everything he had worried about fell away when her smoky voice rattled a tender, “happy birthday.”

He tried to keep the smile from his lips, but they weren’t listening, his face broke open like a well whacked pinata. “I think I missed it.”

She caught up with him, snaking her arms around his waist as he set down his keys on the island. Her head hit him between the shoulder blades, she was just so small. Sam pulled her hand up to his heart, spinning into her embrace. They kissed quickly, but he wouldn’t let her pull away.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he confessed.

“Yeah, what the hell, man?! I had plans and then the stupid rain happened and Mox and Sho are assholes. Luckily Bandit was here otherwise I would probably still be pouting–”

“You smell good,” Sam interrupted, kissing her a little deeper.

“Nope, nice try though,” Emery smirked, holding him at arm’s length. “Where were you?”

“At the meeting until like 8:30, 8:40? Then, somehow, they found out it was my birthday. So, we had drinks,” Sam started talking, hoping to make sense.

“And your phone suddenly evaporated, or they took you to the one dead zone in a city of half a million people?” Emery nodded, biting back the snark enough to tease and not harm.

“How much wine have you had?” Sam glanced behind Emery at the countertop, eyeing the abandoned blue glass bottle.

“Enough! Hey, don’t change the subject.” She poked him in the sternum, hard enough for him to wince.

“Ow! Well, you’re usually an adorable drunk. I was just asking!” Sam groaned, but couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore. “Cady took my phone. She noticed your texts during the meeting and decided to be a child and hold it hostage.”

“Did she now?” Emery’s eyebrows hitched. “And?”

“And, I’m sorry.” Sam conceded, not feeling the least bit guilty about using Cady as a fall guy. Just a tad guilty about the lying part, though.

“No, not you Sam, what else did Cady do?” Emery knew things, somehow Sam forgot how intuitive she was.

“She made a pass at me,” Sam mumbled.

“I knew it! That little–,” Emery inhaled before the words came out. “Did anyone else see it? Is it going to be a big thing?”

“No, once I told her, twice, she got the message,” Sam swallowed, taken aback at the faith she had in him, in their relationship.

Emery tucked a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Are you okay?”

“’m fine, why?” Sam straightened, still playing with the fingers on her free hand.

“A hot, younger woman tried to get you in bed, Sam. It’s not an easy situation to navigate, for anyone. I know this is still new, for you, this kind of life—”

Sam huffed. “Trust me, putting Cady in her place was the easiest thing I did all day.”

“Well okay then,” Emery draped her hands on the back of his neck. “Why don’t we get to bed, Birthday Boy? Wifey is tired.”

“Me too,” Sam yawned just as Emery was about to kiss him again. Instead she attacked his cheek down to his neck. The warmth of the wine radiated from her skin as it brushed against his. Sam dipped and picked her up, stomping up to their bedroom in a shared bout of exhaustion tinted giggles. Sam slept soundly that night, not because he was in denial, but because he couldn’t deny how loved he felt with Emery. The lies were second nature to him, but he had told her the truths that he could at the time. He had been used before, he wasn’t letting his guard down, but a part of him needed her to be real.

^*^*^

“It’s good to see you again, Jack,” Naomi held open the door to her office, ushering him inside the stark décor. He tried to smile back, but his better instincts allowed him a polite caution.

Once she was sat behind her desk Jack spoke up, “I want to see Dean. If I am going to trust you are doing the right thing, I need to see proof of life.”

“Proof of life? In Heaven?” Naomi replied tartly, not letting her amusement show. “Jack, I’d like to think you have a good understanding of the desperate circumstances we are in here. The lengths we have gone to, to keep the souls and this world, safe. We have entertained your visits and questions, but I can’t risk your presence setting Dean, or Michael off.”

“How do I know he’s even here?! That you’re making progress. You won’t tell me where Sam is. Just let me see my— Dean. I want to see Dean.” Jack hadn’t realized he had stood up with his outburst, his soul burning behind his eyes. A fact that Naomi didn’t miss, she tugged her jacket into place and sniffed at the petulant Nephil.

“Please?” He added softly, sitting back down.

Naomi stood up, looming over the desk like a disappointed principal. “Your persistence doesn’t change my responsibilities, Jack. Heaven cannot fall. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think so,” Jack nodded, something in his face shifting the fire in the angel’s eyes to something cooler, something closer to warmth. She walked around the desk and nodded toward the office door. Somehow, they were in a different hallway than the one that had led them to the office originally. It was still bright and stark, but narrower and twisting. Jack kept close to Naomi’s heels, feeling like the door-less walls were tightening every few yards.

“You cannot tell anyone what you see here, Jack. I know you have kept your word so far, but I need to reiterate how important it is that this process won’t be disturbed. Can you promise me that this stays between us?” Naomi had stopped at the end of the hall, a T intersection with three doors surrounded them now.

“Yes, I swear,” Jack nodded enthusiastically, hands heavy against his pockets as he wiped the sweat off.

“I need you to remain quiet. Don’t try to touch him or reach him in any way. Can you do that?” Naomi watched Jack until, against her better judgement, she rounded the corner to the right and faced a fourth hidden door at the end of a much shorter corridor.

“Wait here.” Naomi smiled sadly before disappearing behind the tempered glass door, her warped form fading from view as Jack watched earnestly.

Jack cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot. He was trying to hold all that nervous excitement and fear inside himself. He needed Naomi to trust him if he was going to be allowed further access. If he was going to save his family that he owed his life, twice over. He could do this. He would this. Just when his internal dialogue had reached thudding levels, the door clicked open, a dull metallic shimmer reflecting from the depth behind Naomi.

“It’s okay, Jack. You can come in, just don’t touch anything,” she whispered tensely.

Jack had gotten used to the solitary meetings with Naomi, occasionally he would see Dumah or one other angel he hadn’t been introduced to. Heaven was vast and they were stretched thin, with so few of their kind remaining. Jack knew his father had given them false hope for stability, he didn’t want to repeat those failures. Steeling himself, Jack walked past Naomi into a large space, it reminded him of a surgical bay from Dean’s favorite medical show. There were white machines and metal trays upon the matching counters, directly in the center of the room, approximately thirty feet from where Naomi and Jack stood, was Dean.

He lay with a crown of rods laced through his skull, his mouth open and eyes closed. He wore the black tee shirt and jeans he had left the Bunker in, all those months before. Jack inhaled deeply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. Dean’s boots lay underneath the simple bed, as if he would kick his legs over the side and slip them on at any moment.

Naomi watched the Nephil process the scene, knowing he would protest at any moment. This, like all their previous discussions, was a test. She was desperate to save Heaven, but she was not careless. This boy was a valuable resource, with the loyalty of a Winchester and the naivety of Castiel. She needed him to trust her and he was so willing to. His desire to prove himself shone through every squint or thoughtful pause. She tried to brush off the endearment she felt, as residual family connection.

“Can he feel—” Jack started.

“He’s not in any pain, Jack. No, Dean is kept separate from his body for now. As is his guest,” Naomi explained, unwilling to tempt fate and call the angel inside the hunter’s mind to the surface.

“How much longer?” Jack turned to lock onto her piercing blue eyes.

“We aren’t sure. We are doing everything we can for him,” Naomi reassured. Then turned back the way they came. Jack blinked against the tears in his eyes as he watched Dean’s chest rise and fall. He was alive and Jack could get to him if he really needed to. But Jack wasn’t dull enough to think that Dean was safe. As if on cue, once they reached the door a pained whimper escaped Dean’s lips, freezing them both in place.

^*^*^

Castiel was surprised to find Sam and Emery’s home unwarded. He wasn’t breaking in, just casually observing as he roamed their neighborhood on foot. It had been a week since he had gotten through to Sam, the first chance he could make the trip back from the Bunker. Mary had called him in to help as they slowly pieced apart the remaining factions of Michael’s army. She knew Cas had his own agenda, but he hadn’t shared his progress with her. He didn’t want to give anyone’s hopes up. His own included.

Sam spotted him as he loaded Mox and Sho into the backseat with Bandit, his annoyance shining through on a dark glare topped off with a subtle shake of his head. Cas sighed and kept walking, through the damp lawn of a small park and back to the quiet diner on a noisy street, where he had left his car. He came back just after dark, watching from across the street beside a seldom used alley. From what he could gather, Sam’s wife was human. Their life had been set up to thrive, a nice house and comfortable jobs out of harm’s way and far from prying eyes. He needed to unravel the layers of the spell before he could convince Sam of the best course of action.

It was on the third day that Sam took Bandit for an extra walk, putting Emery’s distraction over finals’ preparation to good use. He found Cas camped out in his flamboyant car, nodding to Cas repeatedly before leading him down a side street, close, but not too close to their usual loop of the neighborhood.

“Any news?” Cas challenged once they were a safe distance away.

“Not really, no,” Sam sighed, watching Castiel crouch down to greet Bandit. “We have way more normal security on the house that I imagine necessary, but I haven’t found any hex bags or anything.”

“What about her? Do you suspect she is under an angel’s control?” Castiel offered. Sam’s lips pursed and he started shaking his head.

“I don’t mean possession, at least not currently,” Castiel eased.

“Look, man. I know something is going on, but—”

“But what, Sam? You are out here in some contrived reality, intentionally separated from Dean, me, your mother AND Jack.”

Sam kneeled down and scratched Bandit around his collar, humility and guilt slamming into him. “You’re right, Cas,” Sam let out in a constricted whisper. “How’re they doing?”

Cas huffed, “Fine, considering. Jack has refocused on physical training and Mary is quite the dispatcher.”

Sam smiled, warm and worried. “And the new recruits?”

Cas had been hoping the conversation hadn’t circled back to the Bunker and its Apocalypse World inhabitants. His pause sent Sam’s defenses back up. “We’ve had some tough hunts. Maggie, and a few others, but—”

Sam inhaled sharply, the news, a bucket of cold water down his back. The hunting life a cacophony of loss, such a stark contrast to his months of sudden complacency.

“They need you back. We need you both back,” Cas finished firmly.

“I can’t leave, if I do something much worse will happen,” Sam practically mumbled, free hand dragging over his beard.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cas stepped closer, conscious of the length of their public conversation. He nodded Sam around the next corner, continuing to talk as they walked. “What? What will happen if you break this deal?!”

Sam looked over his shoulder, instincts returning after being dulled for so long.

“I don’t know.” Elbows bowing out, hands firmly in his pockets. “I just know I’m not going to put Emery—or Dean—in danger.”

Cas’s jaw clenched; the air thickened impossibly around the old friends. He shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet he was. Winchester stubbornness and loyalty always blinded them in the end. Though Sam was usually easier to reason with, or so Castiel remembered.

“Alright, just be careful. I shouldn’t have to remind you, but don’t ingest anything you haven’t prepared yourself.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “The kitchen was stocked when I showed up, but we’ve done all our own shopping since,” he replied tersely.

“Perhaps you should take over cooking duties, exclusively?”

Sam glanced to Castiel, chagrin softening his features. As Castiel felt Sam’s acquiescence, he reeled in his own doggedness. He had been in Sam’s shoes, once upon a time, when human kindness had saved him from harsh truths. When he couldn’t face what he was or what he had done after swallowing half of Purgatory.

“I know you trust her, Sam. I don’t want to infringe on your— relationship, but I think—”

“Got it, Cas. Stay diligent,” Sam cut him off. “Look, here’s my new number. I couldn’t get through to Mom or the number I tried to remember for you. Grab yourself a burner, we can keep in touch easier.”

“They’re thorough, I’ll give them that.” Cas shook Sam’s hand, taking the strip of paper, a smoother gesture than Sam expected.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Sam muttered before crossing the street, heading back the way they came.

^*^*^

Emery didn’t know where she was going or how she ended up in the backseat of some outdated boat of a car. She felt like she was five years old again, her granddad driving her to school while her mom worked the morning shift at the diner. The heavy metal seat belt, familiar and cool in her lap. But it wasn’t her granddad driving, it was some white guy, two of them, actually. As she watched in silent disbelief of her surroundings, it became apparent that the men were twins. Or perhaps the driver was a descendant of the passenger, their clothing at odds with each other.

Suddenly, the one to her right turned to face her, a wave of nausea hitting her as a smug smile crept over his mystifying features.

Emery woke with the taste of bile in her mouth. The surrealism of the dream hitting her with a second bout of panic as the possibility of what the encounter meant for her, for the human sat beside an angel in her vision, for Sam, and their entire deal. She raced from the bed and dry heaved into the toilet. The stretching cold crystallized across her overheated skin, overreaching in its unpleasantness. Carefully, she fell back onto her palms and ass, the tile edges biting into her, vibrations sputtering from her heart to every inch of flesh.

The light snapped on, Sam hesitated in the doorway, waiting as she tried to pull the green from her features. Quickly, she flushed away what little came up.

“Baby? Can I get you anything?” Sam’s voice cracked over his first words of the day. He couldn’t look directly at her, the disgust breaking through his usual cool. Emery chuckled, some tough guy he was.

“Just leftovers from a nightmare,” Emery reassured, groaning, she pulled herself up.

“You sure? Cuz we could stay home, just in case?” Sam offered, arms crossing over his chest while she marched back to bed.

“Don’t have to twist my arm. No Church it is,” she grumbled, tugging the comforter to her chin.

“Okay, rest up. I’ll be back up in a bit,” Sam squeezed her ankle, and pat the bed, earning a weak agreement from Emery.

An hour and a half later, Sam gave up waiting for Emery to emerge from her cocoon. Instead, he piled breakfast onto a sterling silver platter he found in the china cabinet. He focused on the small motions that built the meal, piece by piece. Coffee, of course, alongside a glass of ginger ale tainted with a touch of holy water, scrambled eggs, with more salt than was necessary. In all, they gave him the trifecta of tests in an inconspicuous, single serving. His insides were too wound up to take any of the food for himself; reluctance and apprehension warring within.

Along the far corner, Sam placed a single tulip from the yard atop an almond colored envelope. After placing the unbuttered toast beside the eggs, in case her stomach remained upset, Sam resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing left for him to prepare. No other item needed, no way to prevent the inevitable without giving up completely. Conflicted wasn’t a strong enough word for his state as Sam climbed the stairs. He knocked on the bedroom door with Bandit at his heels, whose eagerness to check on Emery refocused Sam’s attention.

“Come in, but I’m not gettin’ up yet,” Emery’s warbled voice called through the carved wood. Sam balanced the tray and opened the door, letting Bandit in to get the first kisses. Emery giggle whined as she patted Bandit a spot beside her. He, instead, circled thrice before laying across her legs.

“Hey.” Sam stood sheepishly, while Emery sat up.

“What’s this? Breakfast in bed? Lucky me.” Emery smirked, holding her arms up as Sam settled the tray onto her lap. Sam hovered, eyes sparkling in anticipation, but the ornately engraved tray left her unblemished. She smelled the flower before setting it back down to read her card, the opening words gripped her chest and stole her breath away.

‘A mother is not defined by the number of children you see, but by the love she holds in her heart.’

“How—" her words caught in her throat, tears falling without her realizing they had formed.

Sam cleared his throat and pushed her breakfast over to his empty side of the bed. He took her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the grief.

“I guessed?” Words softening as he peered into her astounded eyes. “By the way you are with Trudy and the baby. By the way your body was molded into something beautiful, a testament to what it had carried,” Sam whispered, lips dancing over her forehead.

“Geez, maybe Hallmark should hire you,” Emery teased, trying to lighten the moment that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Happy Mothers’ Day, Emery. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I want you to know… that I know that part of you. I see you, and all that love in your heart, even if no one else does. Okay? And I’m sorry they’re not here with us now, ya know?” Sam pawed at her hair as her hands clamped over his wrists, holding him to her.

“Yeah, I know.” She breathed deeply, sticky and thick through the sobs. “Sam? I see you too. I might not get, all of it. But I know you’re so much more than this life.” A few ragged breaths later, she kissed him.

The kiss wasn’t earth shattering, but short and salted, yet filled with a deepening bond neither had seen coming. She left the card propped open on her bedside table as she ate. The final tests forgotten, but if Sam had been paying attention he would have noticed, her only reaction was a stifled grimace at the now cold, over-seasoned eggs.


	8. A Door Once Opened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a phone call. Sam has a shitty day, but tries to make the most out of it. Emery gets blindsided.
> 
> Warnings: Smut with a hint of masturbation, verbal arguments.

_“When the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.” Luke 4:13_

The pulsing anger Jack left Heaven with hadn’t released him in the days since. Naomi gave him no explanation for Dean’s sudden unrest before practically throwing him through the sandbox portal. Though as acceptable a state stewing generally was in the Men of Letters’ Bunker, it had become a red flag to those who remained, well those still close to him, at least.

Mary had learned, slowly, to deal with her own mercurial son, but the stress and challenges Jack had faced in his short life gave her more than enough reason to pause. Powers or no. She tread lightly, rapping on Jack’s door. The soft tones of his voice reached through the aged door, too quiet to be a response. Without any acknowledgement of her knocking; Mary figured Jack was on the phone. Though she didn’t want to leave this check in until later, she had plenty she could be doing in the meantime. She slipped away as quietly as she approached, leaving Jack to his conversation.

“You’re not real. You’re dead,” Jack murmured, confusion and doubt coursing through his already frustrated mind.

The voice that replied wasn’t there, in the room with him, nor was it exactly all in Jack’s head. It was somewhere all together separate and yet the connection branched through space and time, ether and planes of existence. “Don’t trust the angels, son. You have seen what they can do.”

“You mean like you?” Jack’s anger pitched, and he stood, voice raising to the void.

“Well, yeah. I’m not lying though. You know they are,” Lucifer goaded.

Jack closed his eyes against the truth, breathing deeply to center himself. “What can I do? I don’t have my powers. I’m nobody.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. Because you’re still my boy. We were made to rebel against Heaven, Jack.” The voice distorted, volume and static humming through Jack’s ears as a car passing through the edges of the local radio station’s reach.

“How are you going to save Dean?

“Oh, well, I’m not going to. But, maybe, you can,” Lucifer called back obnoxiously, feeling the din of the failing connection himself.

Jack’s face returned to its natural optimism, he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans and waited. “Okay. What should I do?”

The voice fell silent as the impossible tether joining their minds crumbled.

^*^*^

The work week dragged on, students covered every inch of the library building during finals, no nook or stairwell left uninhabited. Sam had expected it to be crowded, he hadn’t expected the grad students to start ferrying their friends into the archives department. Once he spotted abandoned coffee cups on the stacks, he went a little overboard, throwing everyone out for the remainder of the day. He locked the door behind him and contemplated calling the maintenance department to have the keys changed. He couldn’t wait for the semester to be over, he just wanted to work, to get things done. Because he wasn’t making any progress at home and the pressure from Cas was nothing compared to the tightrope he was walking inside his mind.

Emery’s work week had shifted with the exam schedule, freeing Sam from Mox and Sho duty for the day. Instead of heading home, he walked down the hill to the fitness center, messenger bag strung over his broad chest. He threw himself into a tight circuit workout, rowing and lateral raises, hoping strain would work out the tension embedded in his shoulders. He finished with a quick run on the track, letting his body move without thought of laps or distance, just relishing in the bounce of each step and the wind in his hair. The illusion of freedom more rewarding than any physical milestone.

He arrived home earlier than he would have on a normal day, the afternoon’s annoyances left behind as he crossed the threshold from the mudroom to the kitchen. Sam was bombarded with warmth and comfort: dinner baking and Emery’s perfume settled into his lungs, spreading first to his heart and over his chest up into a rare gleaming grin.

“What?!” Emery looked up, searching around as if to find something to warrant his amusement.

“Nothing,” Sam shook his head as he set his bag and keys on the island.

Emery peeled herself from her reading, unfolding her legs and arms from the large high-backed chair in the dining room turned second office. “Somebody looks like they had a good day,” she purred as she approached.

Sam barked out a short laugh. “It was awful, actually. But good workout, so split the difference.” His hands snaked around her waist, a mischievous smirk flited over his face as he bent down and buried his sweaty face in her neck.

“Ew! You’re still gross.” Emery tried to wiggle out of his hold, face scrunched away from his body odor and stickiness. Sam held her tight, hands slipping down to palm her ass.

“God, you smell amazing,” Sam growled as his tongue darted out to tease the crook of her neck.

“Yeah, well that makes one of us. Go clean up, dinner won’t be ready for another half hour anyhow,” Emery pushed against Sam’s chest, his face pulling back to look down at her. Her disgust making him chuckle once more.

“Only if you come with,” Sam’s long fingers teased at the delicious line between the back of her thighs and the start of her folds.

Emery sighed into his touch, a pout creasing her forehead. “You are such a fucker, you know that?”

“God, I hope so,” Sam sassed back before throwing them both into an enveloping kiss.

Emery didn’t follow Sam into the shower, instead she shoved him with all her strength into the floor to ceiling stall before running back into the bedroom, pulling the door tight behind her.

“No fair!” Sam called back, before starting the water. Emery, hot with victory, began to undress, letting the arousal and anticipation flood her senses. In what felt like a blink of an eye, Sam was crawling above her on their bed, wickedly warm and wet hands grabbing her pebbled skin. The fire didn’t leave his eyes as they continued to tease each other. Emery draped herself over his chest, trying to keep out of his grasp, her normal sized hands barely reaching around his wrists as he hardly fought back. Sam was enjoying the view too much to stop her yet. She spun suddenly, her right arm reaching over the bed, shoving his left arm against the opposite pillow. Sam’s eyes fell on a series of scars, fresh enough to remain raised, arranged in a pattern he had seen before. Just before he could reach out and stroke the marred flesh, Emery pinched her thighs over his chest, rolling them onto their sides.

“Unfh, you’re heavy,” she groaned, newly freed hand slipping down his tensed stomach, continuing to tease him.

“And you’re ridiculous,” Sam snapped, jostling her off of his arm to hover over her. Her grip tightening as he latched over her pulse point. “What were you doing out here, all by your lonesome, Emery? Hmmm? Were you getting ready for me, Baby?”

She moaned as his words tickled her ear, her devious secret revealed. Sam sank two fingers inside her with ease.

“That’s what I thought,” Sam sucked his teeth. “Smart girl, knew I wouldn’t wanna wait.”

Sam hummed as she clenched around his knuckles, her grip faltering as his lips dragged down her body. His other hand took over where hers had fallen away, he lined himself up, sliding his coated fingers over his heavy shaft before pushing inside of her, deep and forceful, finishing with a wiggle of his hips until they both grinned. Snug and smug, Sam began to work her over. The adrenaline from exercising and the sudden rush of just seeing her set the foundation to an arrogant high, each pull of her body on his building atop it until he could do nothing but fall. In a crash of skin and pulsing breaths Sam released all he had, leaving Emery folded beneath him, shaking through the onslaught. Somewhere in the distance an alarm sounded.

Later, sated and stuffed, with each other and a slightly dry roast, Sam and Emery returned to bed. This round, he took his time, trailing touches and glances over every inch of her. His fingers found the scaring that had caught his eye, his massive hand seemed to dwarf the perfectly spaced lines that hooked around her upper arm. Something between shock and frustration pounded through his thoughts. How hadn’t he noticed them before or hadn’t spotted them for what they were immediately? He pulled her closer, dragging his mouth from shoulder to collar bone, neck to ear, smooth and lazy. He lost himself in the possibilities of her being like him, without him noticing the signs. Sam Winchester thought he could spot another hunter out of a line up, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Emery leaned into his warmth, enjoying the easy buzz of skin on skin as he continued his mindless trail up and down her neck. She spotted the alarm clock and let out a muffled whine, before reaching for the side table and turning off the light. She settled flat on her back, letting Sam continue to touch her, stroking her opposite arm as she sighed into the night.

“Thanks for a good night, hot stuff,” she breathed him in as he pecked over her mouth.

Sam swallowed a chuckle. “My pleasure, I should be thanking you.”

“Eh, for better or worse, right?” She smiled beneath her closed lids, settling into a deserved rest.

“Yeah, of course, for better or worse,” Sam replied, breath catching, their daily phrase assaulting his logical brain. He tried to hold on to the warning, to remind himself to ask Cas about spells and mind control, catch phrases and to search for more on Emery’s past. But all he could settle on was exhaustion, drowning between warmth, slumber and disconnected thoughts.

^*^*^

This was it, the last one. She could handle waiting; it was only an email. An email containing her last discussion group’s term paper grades and the final information she needed to submit before she was done with the semester. Completely done. It was fine, Emery cold wait. It wasn’t like she had any plans, or at least any plans her TAs knew about it. Even though they had been inundating their office time with every detail of their summers for weeks. They could all have their adventures or research positions, or job searches as soon as Morgan finally turned in her damned work! It was going to be perfect, eventually.

The sun speared through the leaves on either side of the street, shaded greens and beams of gold casting the neighborhood in fresh life. Warmth met the cool ground as her tires creeped to a halt. The sounds of a lawn mower and far off activity added to the domestic simplicity. It was a beautiful life, but Emery needed a break. Months in the same walls had begun to stifle and shift against her better intentions. With her emptied brief case in hand, she marched into the backdoor, determined to coax her husband into some semblance of a getaway.

“Hey— all done?” Sam’s voice greeted before she closed the door behind her.

“Yessir! This bitch is free, free at last!” Emery chuckled, dramatically dropping her stuff and shaking her hands out, swaying her head and hips in a full body celebration. Sam shook his head at her, topped off with his signature eye roll.

“Good, you deserve a break,” Sam leaned over to leave a rushed kiss on her forehead, before stepping back to the range and his sautéing vegetables.

“Yeah? Glad you think so. I was kind of thinking of taking a trip, maybe get up to the mountains for a few days. Just escape, you know?” Emery bent over and pulled off her pumps, attempting to reach relaxation as her body braced itself against Sam’s inevitable logical rebuttal. He gave a noncommittal grunt and went back to the book he had spread opened on the island. He was doing what he did, going through the motions while keeping his mind juggling three different things. It was incredibly hot seeing him stand there with a towel over his shoulder and fingers flitting over the cutting board. It was also exasperating when she was trying to do something for him.

“Think you can swing a long weekend? Maybe Friday and Monday off?” Emery prodded, sneaking Bandit a scrap from the cutting board. Sam didn’t like her spoiling him, and she was banking on his disapproval to snag his attention back to her questions. He didn’t flinch at her indulgence, spinning to add the meat to the pan with a cascade of hissing. Her neck tightened with the tension that was now palpable.

“Sam, it’s not like they’d mind if we got away. We’d be together, it’d be fun.”

Sam’s back instantly straightened, chest puffing out with the breath he had been avoiding. “What do you mean ‘they’?”

Emery paused, eyes on her hands as she picked at her nails, not willing to look at him, even though his back was still turned. “You know who I mean.”

Sam spun to face her, she was nearly cowering, and it made him sick. She didn’t get to play the victim here; she was a part of this too. “You mean the angels? Huh, Emery? The ones that stuffed us here?”

“Yes, the angels. Why are you so upset?” Emery’s curiosity was getting the better of her self-preservation.

“Maybe because I didn’t have a clue what has been going on around here?!”

“Sam. We made a deal. You were there.” Emery stood, speaking slowly, hand raised to soothe him, but he just swatted her away.

“If I was there, then how come I couldn’t remember my brother was alive up until last week Emery? If I, fully conscious and un–inhibited, took a deal, then how come I blacked out when one of my best friends approached me at the dog park?! What the fuck have you been doing to keep me here? Huh? Is this just your twisted version of playing house or did they screw with your head too?”

“What are you talking about? Who was at the dog park, Sam?” Emery squinted against the shock, eyes searching Sam’s as his face contorted in rage.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is, this is all a game. And I don’t want any part of it. Not anymore.” Sam’s words bit.

“You don’t mean that.” She shook her head, trying to smile, to ease him back into the discussion. His glare said otherwise. She swallowed, trying to process how everything had gone this terribly wrong.

“Um, so, it really has been too good to be true?” She laughed at her naivety, wiping away the tears as she stared at the ceiling. Sam cleared his throat, not willing to break the stalemate with physical contact. She hugged her stomach as his jaw worked over what he wanted to say.

“Yeah, seems so,” Sam sniffed.

“Look, I don’t— we didn’t discuss specifics about our pasts. Okay? But I thought you knew what was going on, if I thought you weren’t in this, willingly—” Emery’s voice raised and stuttered in her throat. Realization and guilt choking her.

“I want to believe you, Em, I do. But I can’t. Not now,” Sam tried to remain calm, but the bile started to rise in his own throat. He sniffed again and clicked off the gas, leaving the chicken half cooked among the forgotten fixings. In a blur, he was heading out the back, shrugging into a spare flannel in the mudroom.

“What are you going to do?” Emery asked, terrified of and dependent on his answer.

“Dunno. I need to figure out what’s real and what’s not.” Sam cocked his head, steeling himself for the threshold. He wouldn’t turn around to watch her beg.

“Can’t we do that together?”

Sam’s pinched lips offered no audible reply. He left her barefoot and dumbstruck in the kitchen.


	9. Home Is Where She Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam talks to someone he probably shouldn’t, Dean hones in on something going on back on Earth, a flashback and someone makes up Sam’s mind for him.
> 
> Warnings: I had a really hard time with this chapter due to recent events. Please read with caution. Drunk!Sam, Angst, Negative Self Talk, Unexplained Phenomenon, Magical Persuasion, Angst.

_For this reason, when I could stand it no longer, I sent to find out about your faith. I was afraid that in some way the tempter had tempted you and that our labors might have been in vain. **-1 Thessalonians 3:5**_

_  
  
_

He wasn’t tasting anything, it hadn’t the time to settle on the tongue, it was shot back into his throat. Fast, hot, burning, crawling through his veins over the anger and into the tension in his chest and shoulders. Sam wasn’t an angry drunk, but he was an obvious one. Even after years knocking back the hard stuff alongside Dean, Sam had a limit and he had already surpassed it. The baseball game in the background kept the mood light as his fingers picked at the label of his beer. Something he hadn’t ordered, but what the bartender brought back instead of another double.

Was this Becky all over again?

Sam laughed mirthlessly at himself; who gets hit the same way twice? A shitty hunter, that’s who. He shook his head and tipped back the beer, letting the sour liquid coat his tongue and catch in the back of his mouth before emptying into a deep swallow. He heard laughter as a group entered, the sound melodious, sticking out above the rest of the noise surrounding him. He ignored it as the voice faded into the mumble of the group. The bartender started talking the Rockies’ bullpen and Sam fudged his way through the conversation, asking open ended questions to keep the man engaged. It was nice to talk to someone without expectations, to exist at the surface level of things.

The distraction was short lived. Sam pouted as the bartender suggested something to eat but nodded and acknowledge the offer after a dizzying trip to the bathroom. It was then that the peace of the superficial was broken.

“Well, look who is out of the house and off his leash,” Cady’s voice goaded from the high-top table across the way. Sam closed his eyes and sighed, trying to ignore the itch to reply. He wasn’t sure he could stop himself from slurring his comeback. He kept his eyes on the screen. Her friends seemed to ignore her sudden outburst and the din continued, but her voice repeatedly rose above the general conversation, reminding him he was being watched. Not a comforting feeling, especially for one who preferred the other side of observation.

Sam started spinning his wedding band on the bar, getting lost in the reflection as it crossed through the glass of water he received with his burger. It wasn’t anything flashy, but the ring reminded him of his wedding night, the glimmering circle in Emery’s eyes. The promise and the pact. He slid the cooled metal back on to his hand, familiar now in weight and position. Somewhere between that night and now things got complicated and he had been duped. How could he be sure it wasn’t her fault? What better way to keep him in line than make him forget he made a deal in the first place? Make him forget who he was at all.

“Somebody is awfully quiet over here,” Cady’s voice came out as a husky whisper, her hand perched on his seatback. Sam inhaled and smiled back sloppily.

“Cady! Enjoying yourself?” Sam asked, eyes not quite open. “How were finals?”

She squinted at him before biting back a huge grin. “Good, yeah. Sam?”

“Hmm?” Sam replied, gesturing to the empty seat beside him. She plopped down and turned to face him, resting her cheek in her palm against the bar. Interest and mischief battled over her features.

“Are you seriously drunk right now?” She smiled at the bartender who shared her summation.

Sam gave her the side eye as air puffed out of his lips in disbelief. “Do I look drunk?”

“Um, yeah, you’re totally sloshed. I like it. I don’t think I’ve seen you relax before,” Cady trailed off, eyes sparkling as his lips scrunched up against his nose.

“That’s because you only see me at work. Not really the place to relax, or drink, for that matter,” Sam adds like it is some untold wisdom.

“I suppose,” Cady chuckles. “But we’re not at work now.”

“We—are not,” Sam agreed. “But don’t try hitting on me again. It wasn’t fun last time.”

Cady giggled and rolled her eyes as the bartender pretended not to hear their conversation.

“Yeah, that was pretty dumb of me, huh?” Cady leaned forward grabbing Sam’s left hand. “What with you being happily married and all.”

Sam’s face crumbled for the briefest second, his brow and lips unsure what they wanted to convey. He watched her inspect his ring, pulling back when she tried to take it off.

“Don’t be like that,” Sam said over a pointed finger. Cady held up her hands in surrender, laughing at his unintimidating tone.

“What are you even doing here? Drinking to drink?” Cady continued to prod.

Sam shrugged, draining the last drops of his beer. He didn’t want to move on to the water, not yet. Dejectedly he started picking at his fries, dragging the plate towards Cady as she hadn’t stopped eying him eat. She took one and chewed on in carefully.

“Why are you drinking, Sam?” Cady tried again.

“Do you ever think about how much we change food to make it taste good? How many things are done to a potato to make it into a fry? When the potato itself is food, but we have to peal it and slice into it and just scald it in oil to make it desirable?”

“Can’t say that I have thought about it lately. Where are you going with this?” Cady took another fry and looked over to her friends.

“You can go, you know. You’ll have more fun over there. I’m not close-the-bar kind of fun,” Sam lamented.

“Oh, I bet you could be,” Cady reassured, but stood anyway.

Sam gave her a sad smile and a gentle nod. “Be safe?”

“You too. I’m not going anywhere, if you need a ride, okay?” Cady looked back to the bartender before giving Sam a one-armed hug. He pulled his face away from the embrace but patted her forearm all the same. He didn’t know how he felt anymore.

^*^*^

Everything she touched crumbled in the end. Emery stood feeling utterly helpless as Sam walked out of the house. His phone remained on the charging dock attached to the Bluetooth speaker which they kept opposite the stovetop; she wouldn’t be able to find him if she tried. If he went after the angels, they were dead or as good as. She wasn’t sure what would happen if he simply left her there and returned to his old life. He needed something out of this arrangement just as she did, but was it enough to keep him there?

Baffled, Emery tossed the remnants of Sam’s meal and started loading the dishwasher. Once the mess in front of her face was cleaned up, her mind started to spiral. She headed to put away her shoes, taking the stairs dejectedly. As she closed the door to her closet, their oversized bed silently mocked her. Her sudden domestic bliss wasn’t reverting to the bitter stalemate it had been, it was completely unraveling. And yet she couldn’t quite understand why she was taking it so personally, why this felt more like a rejection than a jumbled negotiation. Why Sam walking away to clear his head was immediately equated as a failure on her part.

^*^*^

Dean felt many things behind the wheel of the phantom Baby with Michael at his side: fear, resolve, annoyance, and panic, just to name a few. What he felt that night, though it was perpetually night, was something new and it made him that much more alert. In a word, it was defeat. He glanced over to the smug bastard angel to see if he felt it as well, but Michael was the same as ever. Dean fixed his grip on the wheel and sank shallowly into the sensation, the need to find the source and the fear of what it meant steadying his descent.

Suddenly, the rearview mirror flickered from the repetitive retreating streetlights onto a bedroom, big and bright, centered around a very inviting bed. Suddenly a woman appeared, followed by a mutt. She spread across the comforter and stroked the opposite pillow as the dog circled at the foot of the bed. Dean didn’t know how, but he knew her even to the point where her name was on the tip of his tongue. Trying to hold his reactions in check, he continued to watch her as she began to sniffle, love lost flowing to him from upon the silent screen.

Suddenly, she sat up and dragged herself to her feet, a voice both faint and coaxing reached through the void. “Let’s go Banders, if Sam’s not coming back, we really do have the whole place to ourselves.”

“Oh look, another dog,” Michael slipped in, unimpressed. Dean rolled his eyes and looked back to see her before she left the room, but the darkness behind them had returned across the mirror.

^*^*^

_Sam was starting to feel the sofa in his bones, the nights he refused to sleep in the bed with Emery began to accumulate in his joints. Bedraggled he rolled down onto the floor where Bandit found him doing his morning push-ups. After going through his regular routine, Sam went upstairs to shower and change. He knocked on the door to the room he no longer claimed as his, though it was where all of his clothing was kept. As he opened the door, Sam was greeted with a considering smirk on his wife’s face. Emery’s hazel eyes seemed to sparkle with untold gratitude and the sheer pleasantness of her expression dazzled him._

_She had always been beautiful, his original appraisal hadn’t changed with the waning of the wedding spell’s magic. But that morning Emery’s beauty radiated out like a fireplace, warm and inviting, comfort at last. Sam actually sighed as an awkward grin bent his lips and he gave her a small wave._

_“Uh, sorry, I thought you were done,” Sam apologized and started backing away._

_“No, it’s okay!” Emery blushed. “I didn’t say anything, because I was hoping to surprise you back.” She adjusted a glinting bottle on her dresser top before speaking again, Sam confused, waited to see what she meant._

_“I can’t believe it has been a month already, can you?” Emery slipped into her shoes and glanced at Sam over her shoulder._

_“I guess not,” Sam agreed, still slightly dumbfounded by the new aura she held. They looked at each other, in the eye, the first time in weeks without annoyance or trepidation and shared a shy smile._

_“Anyway, I’m done, have at it.” Emery paused at the door, sounding hopeful. “See ya after work?”_

_Sam nodded casually. The closing door sent a waft of jasmine back to him._

^*^*^

Cady whistled as she pulled up to the curb outside the obscenely well-lit corner house. Sam grunted in the backseat as Cady’s roommate shoved him back to his side of the bench seat.

“Dude, we’re here,” an unfamiliar voice pulled Sam from the depths of sleep, with a jarringly familiar phrase.

“Yeah, I’m up,” Sam muttered, wiping the drool from his beard. Looking up at the house from the sedan’s backseat made him feel nine years old, the two-story monstrosity looming above, like all those that waited until his dad could vanquish its past. Instead of ghosts or even ghouls, it held forgotten truths and guilt, the shame of his outburst and the distrust of months of affection. He didn’t remember asking them to take him home.

“You okay from here, stud?” Cady called from the driver’s seat.

Sam croaked out something close to a ‘who the hell knows,’ but recovered with a decisive throat clear. “Yep, thanks.”

Like a new foal, Sam pulled himself out of the tiny backseat, unfurling his limbs until his feet steadied underneath him. Slapping the roof with two quick pats, Sam was off, heading back to the place that he couldn’t seem to leave.

The security system was armed, causing Sam to grab for a weapon that was not in his belt, before he staggered toward the keypad beside the front door, that they never used. He groaned in relief while the disabled chime rang out. He squinted in the dark, trying to gain his bearings in the silent house. If Sam had been closer to sober, he would have been surprised that Bandit hadn’t come to greet him, if not concerned that the alarm hadn’t woken Emery.

He stumbled into the Den, not wanting to ascend the stairs or set down his pride just yet. After nearly whiffing on the two steps leading into the sunken room, Sam caught himself on the archway. A slight growl came from seemingly nowhere. Slowly, Sam focused on the sight before him, emotion burned deep into his chest, causing the breaths to heave as he tried to meter their intensity. Bandit was pinned to Emery’s side as she slept, but the dog’s tail wagged once he saw it was Sam. Ever the dutiful boy, Bandit let his snout fall back into the crook of Emery’s arm. Seeing them huddled together like that, almost like they had been waiting up for him, damn near broke Sam in half.

He lowered himself down onto the stairs, elbows falling to his bent knees as he cried. He cried out of frustration of having a life so tangible and impractical, for wanting to keep it. He cried because he was drunk and when he wasn’t sappy happy; he got morose. But mostly he cried because he was so relieved that she stayed, but so terrified that he could no longer rely on his feelings to guide him. Sure, he was smart, but his instincts came from inside and without those, who was he?

^*^*^


	10. An Olive Branch and A Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel interrupts, Sam questions and Emery reveals.

Urgency hung in the air as Castiel roamed through the crowds, his eyes somehow his strongest asset in a search now. Time marched on and he grew older and Heaven’s light waned from his being more rapidly than both, exponentially so. He was anxious because he had been on the West Coast when the news came through and he didn’t want Sam to be subdued again. They couldn’t keep dragging their feet, not with real progress after so long without answers. He was overdressed in the bright sunlight, trench coat earning him glances he was once unaware of but had long since minded. The booths were filled with every local delicacy, smells and voices overwhelming in their temptations. He misheard his name with every cash only vendor and each whisper about finding an ATM.

Eventually, he felt he had lost his chance, having searched through every face in the sea of affluence. Dejected, Cas stepped out of the stream of foot traffic to text on his phone just to be jostled by someone as they collided with his sturdy frame. A canvas bag fell at his feet and he bent to pick it up.

“Uh, here, you dropped—.” His body instantly stopped moving, thoughts rolling in panic.

“Sorry, God, I’m so sorry,” exclaimed a hand covered mouth beneath mischievous eyes. Castiel softened as he saw how worried she was, sensing honest concern in her.

“It’s alright, Emery, no harm no foul.” He shook his head, brushing off the awkwardness, holding her nearly empty bag out genteelly.

She hesitated, before taking the bag and tucking it back onto her shoulder, brow knit in confusion. She crossed her arms, “I’m sorry— do I know you?”

Cas swallowed, just as he was about to take his turn with apologies, Sam caught up with them. Eyes darting amongst them until the tense moment evolved into a nervous stalemate of confusion and disastrously avoiding setting Sam off.

“Uh, guys?” Sam’s deep voice shattered the bubble of quiet.

“Sam—” Cas began.

“What’s up? We just bump—” Emery started explaining.

Sam’s eyebrows did the thing where his forehead jumped two more inches, though he leaned in so far, he effectively shrank. “Cas, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

Cas focused Sam with his quintessential exasperated expression and sighed, “I don’t know, Sam. Is it? You texted me.”

Emery bit her lip as she watched the men huff at each other and communicate so thoroughly without saying anything of consequence. Sam ran his hand through his hair and the man in the jacket stood impatiently. She was almost concerned, if the whole thing wasn’t so suddenly intense; she found it all funny by sheer bafflement.

“Did you—?” Sam held up his hand waiting to see what had transpired before his arrival.

“No,” Castiel said flatly. “I didn’t say anything, in fact, she ran into me.”

“Well, you did say my name, so that was a bit of a faux paus,” Emery muttered, sneaking in a slight challenge as she raised her eyes at Castiel’s renewed annoyance. Sam bit his lips and slammed his eyes shut.

“Fine, whatever. Emery, this is Castiel. Cas, this is my– wife,” Sam spat the last word at the angel like it was his fault.

Cas nodded at Emery. “It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

Sam shook his head at Cas’s words, but Emery perked up, holding out her hand for him to shake.

“I don’t understand, I thought–,” Cas smiled despite himself at the warmth in Emery’s eyes.

“Oh, he’s still pissed. But, it’s nothing new for me. Now, how do you know Sam?” Emery leaned in to conspire with Cas as they walked out of the farmers’ market.

“Well, uh, we go way back. You could say we used to work together?” Castiel suggested feebly.

Emery laughed out loud, “No. But, really? I mean, he’s texting you, risking a whole fucking lot, in the process. Who are you?”

“Guys? Maybe we should have this conversation in private?” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, the telltale headache that Cas’s presence brought flaring up again.

“Sure can! So, Cas? How do you feel about pheasant?” Emery chirped overtly cheeky.

^*^*^

An hour later, the at odds couple and the persistent angel were seated in the den. Bandit lay, unimpressed, between Emery and Cas on the large sectional. Sam sat on the steps, forearms resting on his knees as he didn’t drink his beer.

“What do you remember?” Emery shoved the ball into Sam’s court, fierce and frank, cherry bombing them to the crux of the conversation. He inhaled and closed his eyes, “I remember a lot, Emery, but most of it isn’t real. I remember us dating up to proposing on Christmas Eve. I remember you getting the offer to move here. Our whole relationship, before.”

“Where would all of that come from?!” Emery stared back at Cas, shocked. Before circling back to Sam. “Do you remember the real stuff too? The deal, Naomi, the wedding? Any of it?”

Sam cleared his throat and stretched his neck, “Yeah, that’s there too. But some of it hurts? Like it’s been buried.”

“We need to know more about the deal, Emery. Why did Sam have to leave? What exactly are the stakes?” Castiel leaned in, squinting as Emery tried to keep herself calm.

She nodded, smiling sadly at Sam. “I don’t know what Sam promised, exactly. I just know that neither of us could go back to our old lives, if we went back, even one of us, everything was lost. No do overs or take backs. They bound us together, to keep us accountable. Because we would have already sacrificed ourselves as the means to our ends. Depending on each other kept us each invested. I feel like I’m not being very clear. But, um, so, whatever Sam needed help with was huge, right?”

Sam and Cas shared a look, but Sam answered with a tight, “you could say that.”

“Okay, me too. But they knew we wouldn’t stop badgering them–,” Emery gave a knowing look to Sam. “On our own, so to keep us in line, they stuck us together. If I go back or after them, or anything like my old life. Sam could die. If Sam goes back or starts nagging them or whatever his equivalent is, I could. It’s all soul deep stuff, instant repercussions without them having to be here to witness it.”

“True marriage?” Cas said softly. “A soul bond? That is very old magic.”

“Can it be undone?” Sam asked Cas, ignoring Emery’s slight intake of breath.

“Not by any means I know of,” Cas answered with wide, pressing eyes. “If the deal is fulfilled, perhaps, but I don’t know how they did it in the first place.”

“Hold on!” Emery sat up; arms raised to the men on either side of her. “The deal isn’t the problem, that we both agreed to. The problem is Sam doesn’t remember what’s real. He doesn’t— we don’t— we need to sort out what or who is messing with his head. And why.”

Sam watched Emery as she finished off her wine, setting the empty glass on the coffee table with a tightness in her every move, snapping back into the corner, watching the entire room.

“Were you a hunter?” Sam’s question landed heavy, deflating their momentum.

Emery’s eyes dilated, but her voice came out evenly, “No, what does that have to do with anything I just said?”

Cas watched them, untold emotions warring within each Sam and Emery, and with their untrusted halves.

Sam shrugged sarcastically. “I was. And I’m not talking Bambi.”

Emery stabbed her tongue into her cheek and glared at Sam, “I know what you meant, Sam. We’re having drinks with your buddy the renegade angel. I get the whole spectrum of things that go bump in the night, okay? Stop treating me like a victim. You don’t have to ease me into it. I’ve been here.”

“When did Sam, stop acting like himself?” Cas broke in before they raised their voices. “Did something happen? Did you meet someone new? Have any uninvited guests?”

“You mean stop acting like an asshole?!” Emery replied tersely. “Because as soon as that spell was set, wooo, let me tell you, he picked up a bottle of Johnny Walker and didn’t look back.”

“Not exactly,” Cas floundered.

“It’s okay, let her get it out. Maybe she can remember when I started acting like a love drunk teenager. So demented that I suddenly became—”

“Kind? A gentleman? Not some bitter slob, who needed to blame everyone but himself. Even Heaven, you know, the ones who were just trying to help?!

Sam stood up, bracing himself for a thorough verbal onslaught. Emery tisked at Sam’s position as an overreaction and rolled her eyes.

“When, Emery? Don’t worry about him,” Cas pressed, arm out as if to restrain Sam. They bore into her with attention as she looked forward, and unfocused her eyes. Slowly she relaxed and just when she couldn’t seem to place when the shift had occurred; everything fell into place.

“Our anniversary,” Emery spoke into her fingertips, like a kid catching themselves do something wrong. She looked up to Sam, who waited for more, clearly not remembering what she had. “It was one month here, and I didn’t know why, but you remembered. Surprised me with a gift but never mentioned it. From then on, you were different. Nice even.”

Cas glanced over to Sam, who was visibly swallowing, throat tight. “I don’t remember buying you anything.”

“What was the surprise, Emery? Where was it?” Cas asked softly, the realization clearly affecting her.

She looked up at Sam, eyes glistening with tears and attempted to smile. “Perfume.”

Sam slammed his eyes closed and nodded. “Of course, God, yeah, that’d do it. Fuck!”

^*^*^

Emery had surrendered their bedroom to a thorough investigation by Sam and Cas before they delved any deeper. Cas promised to have the perfume examined to see if its origin could be established. Finding nothing else sinister, they gave in and humored Emery by sitting down to dinner. Hesitant, yet desperate, Castiel approached Emery’s loyalty to the deal.

“I know you want to believe they are helping you, but I assure you, Naomi only does something if it benefits her cause,” he warned.

“Castiel, I know you have your own history with Naomi. But I have to believe this will work. If everyone benefits, why question it?” Emery had the soft forgiveness to her expression that Sam had grown to love and hate in equal measure. Perhaps not hate so much as envy, he longed for her blind faith like a child missed a cherished blanket.

“Emery, there’s things you need to understand about us,” Sam started.

“I’ve lost too many brothers and sisters trying to fix Heaven’s injustices,” Cas’s voice was low, yet not quite patronizing. “I will not lose Dean, too, because you refuse to listen to reason.”

Emery recoiled at the suggested vengeance in Cas’s tone. Sam instinctively rubbed her back, trying to soothe them both. Emery didn’t miss that it was the first time he’d touched her in days. When he realized it, he pulled back in clumsy movements.

“Cas? Let me explain it to her?” Sam offered, waiting for Cas to understand what he was implying.

“You want to do that alone,” Cas surmised after a few beats. “Very well. But I’m not going to remain idle.”

“Nobody is saying you have to, man. As for us, Emery and I—.” Sam looked to his wife trying and failing to see any leeway.

“We’ll be in touch,” Emery finished. After Cas begrudgingly said goodbye, Sam and Emery sat eating with nothing but a faint playlist to break the silence.

“I’m going to ask, just because it will gnaw at us both if I don’t— but, Em, you have to be straight with me,” Sam, who had been speaking at the lazy-Susan, finally met Emery’s curious stare. “Did you have anything to do with the love potion? Do you know anything about where it came from?”

Emery shook her head at Sam’s questions, eyes locked on his face, open, honest. He wanted to trust her in a way that made him frustrated to be inside his own skin. How could he be so upset and still determined to stick to her side? How long before he could trust himself around her again? Sam licked his lips and nodded, acknowledging her answers without pressing for more.

“Can you do me a favor while I clean up the kitchen?” Sam stood, stacking their plates.

“Sure? What’s up?” Emery perked up at the casual direction the conversation took.

“Mind taking a shower?” Sam requested. “It’s just— I have a lot to tell you and I want to be sure that I get the reactions you’re having and not the ones I want to see.”

Though slightly off put by his diligence, she agreed, letting the last traces of the cursed fragrance disappear with a fresh bar of soap and plenty of hot water.

^*^*^


	11. The Wife She Was Never Meant To Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is confronted about his extracurricular activities. A pointed flashback. Sam and Emery babysit.

Dumah inhaled with sheer satisfaction, her vessel’s dark eyes alight with the task at hand. She approached the diner alone, pant suit pristine as she scanned the civilians in her way. With a short nod at the waitress at the counter, she took a sharp turn toward the back of the dining area, stopping at the last booth on the right.

Mary stopped midsentence and turned to face her, hand sliding instinctively to the weapon at the small at of her back. “Can we help you?”

Dumah shook her head. “Don’t need your help. But Jackie here, well, he’s needed on some official business.” Mary’s face fell as Dumah shined with her smugness.

“Is it— did something happen?” Jack crawled from his side of the booth, staring into the angel for some sense of honesty.

“Jack, I don’t think—,” Mary tried to reason with him, seeing the urgency overtake his entire body.

“I can’t say, but you need to come with me. Now, Jack,” Dumah finished sternly, seeing the warning in the older woman’s eyes before the Nephil squared his shoulders and walked out of the diner. Mary grabbed the angel’s arm as she turned to follow Jack outside.

“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m coming with. You’re not taking Jack too,” Mary warned under her breath.

“He’s coming willingly. Maybe you should accept that you aren’t cut out to play grandma either,” Dumah said in true mean girl fashion, leaving Mary dumbstruck with a conniving smirk. Mary tossed some cash onto the table and ran to catch up with them outside, but it was too late, they were gone.

^*^*^

_The sound pierced through the cavernous walls like an alarm, a long unnatural wail, sadder and more primal than any pitch they had heard before on the protected airwaves. Naomi’s mind raced at what or who could be in such anguish. Anyone with access was accounted for, where was this misery coming from? As quickly as it started, it cut off, leaving the dwindling angels murmuring in speculation._

_ A week later, Naomi knew she had the right flat, simply by the demons lining the perimeter of the block. Slowly, she made her way through Hell’s foot soldiers, without so much as a misplaced strand of hair. She approached the third floor with caution, uncertain why the demons hadn’t stormed in and taken her for themselves. She reached the door at the top of the stairs, no landing beyond the final step on which Naomi shuffled her feet over the threadbare carpeting._

_ Before she could knock a weak voice called out, “if you’re going to kill me, you can do it from there.”_

_ Naomi surprised at the timidity of the creature that somehow subverted both Heaven and Hell’s lines of communication. Naomi leaned in until she could hear shuffling footsteps beyond the hollow plywood door. “I’ve come to help you, Emery. Can I come in?”_

_ With very little ceremony the door opened to reveal a grief-stricken mother in such a state that Naomi would have felt indecent entering her home, had she, herself, been human._

_“How can you help me?” Emery demanded._

_ Naomi, confused by the spikes of energy the woman emitted as they each tried to read each other, stepped inside the repurposed attic. A dog lingered beside her, protective yet silent._

_“I understand that you have lost your son recently. Now, I may not be able to remedy that situation, but I may be able to ease your conscience and help you towards some absolution.”_

_ Emery stiffened at the dangling carrot. “Why help me? Why not smite me like you did all those demons who were too chicken shit to come up here? I’m no better than they are.”_

_ Naomi tilted her head to the side and sighed. “You truly believe that, don’t you? That you’re no better than those that prey upon the weak?”_

_ Emery shrugged, folding her arms over her stomach as she looked into the angel’s piercing blue eyes. “Sooner or later, I’ll become exactly what they were.”_

_ “Emery, you’re not damned. There is still time for you,” Naomi started to see the guilt and anguish that had been piled over her grief. This woman could barely stand with the weight of her emotional pain. Emery let out a single mirthless chuckle, head shaking as she glared through glistening eyes._

_ “I don’t deserve time or forgiveness. I’ve done the unspeakable,” Emery whispered, closing her eyes against her confession._

_ “And yet, somehow an angel has come to you offering you a path toward salvation,” Naomi replied, kinder than she expected to sound._

_ “I don’t want salvation. Not for myself,” Emery spat, anger surfacing at the selfishness implied by such an offer. Naomi considered what she meant, seeing everything standing in their way and without missing a beat, sold with everything she had._

_ “Let us help you free your son,” Naomi went big._

_ “Why would you–?” Emery gaped._

_ “There are things happening all over the world, yet I came here today. For you. The Bible is filled with people who, at their lowest, were set on the path to righteousness. You are no different, Emery.” Naomi saw the instant her hope ignited, the flames of regret and loss dimming in comparison. This woman held immense psychic power and though it had only extrapolated after her recent tragedy, Naomi couldn’t let her uncover her true potential. There was so much more at risk if she remained unchecked, than a single immortal soul._

_ “If not for yourself, do it for him. Come with me, let us free you from your burdens while you help protect us Heaven and Earth,” Naomi brushed Emery’s bangs from her forehead, like an older sister soothing a lost sibling. Emery gave into the whirlwind, faith and loss, guilt and new possibilities overwhelming her tired mind and weakened body. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept. Yet, here stood the most ethereal being she had ever seen, offering her hope beyond dreams. This is what her pastor meant that they’d be surprised with who they saw in Heaven, when their time came. Salvation wasn’t just offered to the pious, it was granted to those who sought it; who worked for it._

_ And even though everything told Emery she wasn’t worthy of such an opportunity, she clung to it, the first solid steppingstone on the cracking path she climbed._

_ “What do you need me to do?” Emery whispered, eyes closed and heart open._

^*^*^

Emery knew Sam was telling her the truth, obvious, provable things had happened which lined up too perfectly to be coincidence. But it was so all encompassing that she had taken days to process his history. Oddly, Sam seemed more relaxed the more she knew about him. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing what had been happening between them and putting an end to its influence. Maybe it was just easier than living a lie. Either way, she took the tiny victory, grateful for the trust he gave her by sharing his and his brother’s lifelong struggle against evil.

Sam mentioned that there were books floating on the internet, a new gospel, penned by God himself. Though he wasn’t eager to share the gory details, he told her if she needed more in-depth answers, they were available. Like a true academic, she did her research. She checked dates and locations and even weather reports. It was all there, just below the surface of the major headlines, but sprinkled throughout the trashy newspapers that had become bad chain emails or misguided social media panics along the way. Monsters had always been real for Emery, but apocalyptic destinies were beyond the scope of her time as a sunroom psychic and single mother. His perseverance floored her.

Sam came home Wednesday night to the shrill wail of a newborn and two extra barking voices. Jason and Trudy were hovering at the front door, dropping off the baby (and dogs) for their first night out since becoming parents. Emery rocked pudgy Dylan against her shoulder, hand lightly cupping his tiny head when Sam stole over the dogs’ attention as he came in the back. Suddenly three excited boys hurdled over each other across the hardwood floors.

“Hey, guys!” Sam waved from beyond the wall of fur. Amusingly, Jason was the one who was insistent on the baby’s schedule, lingering over his son as Trudy stood on the wide front porch rolling her eyes. When their neighbors were finally on their way to a quick dinner downtown, Sam started reheating leftovers for Emery and himself to eat around keeping their wards content. Within an hour, the dogs had settled, and Dylan was back asleep after a quick change.

“You’re really good at that,” Sam admired, watching Emery settle the infant back into his carrier.

“This is an easy stage, feed, change, rock, repeat,” Emery shrugged off the compliment, giggling when she saw the express disbelief on Sam’s face. “It’s just a baby, Sam.”

“I know, he’s probably the smallest one I’ve ever seen,” Sam shrugged.

“He’s actually really big for a month, but unsurprising with his genetics,” Emery sighed, dropping onto the couch close, but not too close to Sam.

“How tall were your parents?” Emery asked, getting comfortable asking Sam about himself more and more.

Sam tilted his head back, “Uh, Dad was six-one, six-two— somewhere in there. Mom’s tiny in comparison, but she’s doesn’t seem like it. Too tough, you know?”

“I forget your mom’s alive,” Emery apologized.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Still confuses the hell out of people.”

The mood settled into a subdued quiet, reflective, but comfortable. Emery thought about how brave Sam was to stick beside her, to keep up his end of the deal. She knew he loved his brother more than anyone or anything, and though she benefitted from that loyalty in unspecified terms, it warmed her heart to know that kind of fraternity still existed in the world. A world filled with more monsters than the supernatural kinds, and somehow, she had been granted a man who worked to stay human against all odds.

“Sam?” Emery turned to face him; knees pulled to her chest. “I want you to know that I have been honest with you. And I’ll keep being honest with you. I know this hasn’t been easy, especially given everything you have gone through. And I appreciate you explaining yourself to me.”

Sam nodded, though a constricting sort of anticipation burned along his neck and he scratched the lower reaches of his beard to try and keep from flinching away from her.

“Do you— do you think you could trust me again?” Emery exhaled the plea, rushing the words out of her mouth towards Sam, giving him their weight to handle. Sam swallowed against the strain, her eyes adding the undercurrent of intimate trust to the bundle of her words.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Sam replied, brow wrinkled in levels of consideration. “But I’m still here and you’re still here, and damnit, I really hope that’s enough for this thing to end well.”

“So—” Emery inched forward. “What does that mean, for us?”

Sam exhaled, drawing it out as his hands fell to his thighs, sweaty and twitching. “I am comfortable being in this—partnership, with you Emery. But I don’t think I can go back to being your husband, in that way.”

God, she was good at putting on a mask when she needed to. Sam saw it flicker in her eyes, the rise and deliberate hiding of her pain. His rejection stung them both, but he needed to be sure. She deserved that clarification, his truth. He wasn’t going to be the drunk asshole he once was, but he wasn’t going to be falling into bed with her that night either.

“Okay,” Emery shrugged.

“Okay?” Sam countered.

“Yeah, Sam. If that’s what you need— I’m not going to— that’s not how I work. Like I said, if I had known you weren’t actually interested I—”

Sam cut her off, “hey, it’s not that. Alright? This is my shit to process, please, understand that. I need to be sure here. I can be your friend, Emery. Hell, I want to be—I just. Can we just do that? First? Or finally? Or whatever?”

Emery nodded, biting both her lips to keep from saying too much. Sam felt like she was shrinking away, the couch enveloping her, a shield against his words that carved into the tendrils of hope that had sprouted from her new understanding of him. Their relationship never made sense, in definition or routine. Why did this turn feel like such an impasse?


	12. The Stuff of Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas goes home. Sam walks into the meat of the deal.
> 
> Warnings: Show level violence, death of a child, grief, guilt.

There was no guard, no alarm, not a soul or angel in sight, and yet Castiel worried over a potential ambush as he approached the quiet playground. The portal seemed warm, dust metaphorically hovering in the air from recent use. He had no idea if it would accept his presence or continue to deny him access to a place, he once considered his only home. With a signature grimace, Castiel stepped into the sandbox and looked heavenward. It was two minutes of eternity before he felt it, a deep resonance in every atom of his being and suddenly he was transported into a stark white office.

“Hello, Castiel,” Naomi’s rich voice greeted, though she had just rushed to meet him, she seemed unaffected by his sudden appearance.

“Naomi,” Cas leaned in, eyes squinting in suspicion.

“What can I help you with?” She offered, eyes tight and face a forced mask of indifference.

“I think you know wh—” Cas stopped short as Dumah rushed into the room, dark hair trailing behind her as she raised her voice to her superior.

“What is he doing here?! You can’t be seriously letting him try to talk you into something,” Dumah spoke as if Castiel were a stray animal, nosing for scraps.

“Dumah, Castiel just arrived. As you so rudely interrupted us, I have no idea why he is here. Perhaps, first, you would like to explain why you have left your post?” Naomi reprimanded without much force behind her words, an unimpressed teacher.

Dumah gaped, eyes darting between Castiel and Naomi as she tried to temper the defiance that was threatening her better judgement. “I assume he’s come with his usual unreasonable demands.”

Castiel finally spoke up for himself, “there is nothing unreasonable about trying to free Sam and Dean from this web of deception you have all constructed for them.”

Dumah paused, waiting to see just what Castiel had unearthed; she had anticipated him coming to free Lucifer’s spawn, not to avenge the Winchesters. If she wasn’t careful, Naomi would learn of her meddling with Sam’s memories, among other things. Naomi quickly dismissed Dumah with a chilling glare and nod of the head, sending her back the way she came. Back to her duties.

“The Winchesters, Castiel, have made their deals and now they must lie in them,” Naomi sat back in her desk chair, inspecting Castiel as if measuring his usefulness versus the price he’d earn if sold off. “I can’t expect you to understand the lengths we have had to go to ensure they are each protected from any outside interference. Heaven and Earth depend on the security of this mission, Castiel. This Michael that they have dragged into our world is not the same archangel they locked into Lucifer’s Cage. You know this.”

Castiel listened, softening to the raw certainty and hinted desperation she must have been working under. “But why take Sam too, Naomi? He is needed doing what he was raised to do.”

“Sam Winchester would not let his brother go, even if Dean asked him to. Their lives are just one long struggle to keep the other safe. At times, against the greater good. He had to be neutralized, until the issue with Michael could be properly handled,” Naomi reasoned calmly.

“And what then?” Castiel countered, stepping between the two guest seats to lean over Naomi’s desk.

“When Dean’s freed from the influence of the foreign archangel, if the rest of their deals remain intact; then they go back to their lives,” Naomi offered, the improbability of the hypothetical obvious.

“Why does it feel like you don’t expect that outcome?” Castiel tilted his head, eyes boring into Naomi’s faux calm expression.

“Because it is the Winchesters, Castiel. Nothing goes smoothly when they are involved, voluntarily or not. But we had to step in, given the extremes Michael had gone to— among other things. I’m just glad we could secure Dean before he lost control again,” Naomi’s tone shifted, vigilance melted in self-congratulations.

“I want to see Dean— or Sam,” Cas tried to recover. “I want to make sure they are safe, that they know just what is happening. Tell them what they are missing.”

“You mean like Jack contacting Lucifer in the Empty?” Naomi countered, standing, eyes unable to contain her rage any longer.

Cas fell back onto his heels, frozen with shock. “What are you talking about?”

“How did he do it, Castiel? There has never been a way in, besides, Death. Suddenly, the Nephilim child in your charge can reach that realm without his grace. What exactly have you all been doing in that Bunker in the Winchesters’ absence?” Naomi’s voice carried.

“What exactly happened? Is Jack alright?” Cas pressed on.

“Even with our dwindling resources we had to ensure that he couldn’t make that breach again,” Naomi decreed. “Now, if you hadn’t been chasing after Sam and Dean, maybe you could have stopped him from trying to tear apart the barriers between Earth and the black hole of existence.”

“What do you mean, Naomi, what did you do?” Castiel hesitated at the silent fury on Naomi’s face, cautiously he raised his hands slightly as if in surrender. “I had no idea he would try such a thing.”

“Your ignorance doesn’t change that it happened. Your negligence, your history, it all just proves that you can’t be trusted. Even now, when we need every angel’s help, I couldn’t go to you. Because you no longer serve Heaven. And as much as you think your loyalty to those hunters is worth it, you still manage to let them down. So, Castiel, now, it seems, you only serve yourself,” Naomi lamented, voice low with disgust.

Cas turned his face away as he absorbed her vitriol, eyes closed until a shuffling behind him stole his attention from his guilt. Dumah lead Jack into the office in spellworked cuffs with defiant arrogance. She missed none of Naomi’s stifled surprise, even when Castiel brushed passed her like a petulant teenager. The angels of heaven held a mental stalemate as Cas checked on Jack.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how it happened,” Jack’s eyes held such shame, as gullible as he was guilty.

“It’s alright, Jack,” Castiel attempted to placate him, hyper aware of their audience.

Jack’s face sprang up, confusion lacing through his stare as he tried to find what Castiel wanted. To figure out what Castiel knew, where he had been.

“You’ve been gone a lot,” he led.

“Yes, we’ve all tried to keep busy without Sam and Dean,” Castiel clipped, eyes darting between the other angels.

Dumah sniggered, facing Naomi as she accused them all, “indeed. You all have been VERY busy.”

“I don’t think this is necessary. Dumah, take Jack back to his cell, until this matter is resolved—“ Naomi walked around the desk, attempting to escort them out, until Cas stopped her, face to face.

“You have him in prison?! For what? Lucifer sought Jack through dimensions, why would the Empty be any different? He has committed no crime.” Castiel pointed to his adopted son with the vehemence of a defense attorney.

“So?” Naomi challenged. “He is a target. If Lucifer can reach him, what else can his presence inspire? We need to keep Jack safe, Castiel. We need to keep everyone safe.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Dumah muttered, twisting Jack’s wrists harder than necessary.

Naomi stared into Cas’s eyes. “Enough, Dumah.”

Surprisingly, Dumah listened. She walked Jack back to the exit.

“Wait!” Cas attempted to get around Naomi, but she held him back from reaching Jack.

“Cas, you have to find Dean. He’s down the narrow hallway, after the fork! Find Dean! He’s not safe–” Jack’s pleas cut off as Castiel fell unconscious.

^*^*^

The melody was bright yet stunted as the notes floated down the stairs. Sam had come home to find that Emery’s summer motivation had migrated down her project list to deep cleaning. How a house with two responsible adults needed that kind of overhaul less than a year from moving in, he didn’t know. But he was grateful she was keeping busy.

Sam hadn’t found a proper mute to the nervous energy he felt, though work kept him occupied during the week. They hadn’t heard from Cas since he left mid-meal over the weekend. Sam was in a kind of limbo; it was both easy in its routine and stifling in its lack of direction. He listened hard as he climbed the steps, a falsetto pelting along with the music. A very different kind of genre than those he had grown up with had Emery singing and dancing as she organized clothing into piles across the bed top.

“And when the groove is dead and gone…You know that looooove survives…So we can roooooccck forevvver onnnn,” Emery belted out, eyes closed, shoulders and hips swaying. Sam huffed a short laugh, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her let the bridge build. It wasn’t until she inhaled deeply, that he saw her breath shake in her chest, two subtle tracks of moisture brushed from her face as she turned to grab a drawer full of sweaters. He stepped into the room, instinct driving him to ensure she was alright, even if he didn’t want to know why she was crying. If he was to blame.

“Hey?” Sam flinched as Emery jumped out of her skin with a short shriek. “Sorry, I just got home and—,” Sam trailed off, Emery folded in on herself, one hand over her stomach and the other over her mouth.

The scare pushed her over the tightrope she had been walking. “What the fuck?!”

She groaned in frustration, letting the grief and shock and rage burn through her throat until it heaved Sam onto his heels. The haunting background vocals rose up and filled the space between them, trumpets and rhythm chiming in celebration as Emery rolled her shoulders against the anger of being disturbed, of being found in such a state, as it landed in her stomach, heavy and sour.

The song transitioned into something slower while Sam stood quietly, mouth pinched, hands on his hips as Emery frantically tried to get back to her chores, to ignore the elephant in the room.

He cleared his throat, “Emery? You alright?”

She exhaled and dropped the garments in her hands, shoving them away from her as if their placement would help distance her from her thoughts or agitation. She wiped her hand down her face, attempting to steel herself. It didn’t work; she swallowed thickly and glanced back up at Sam from the tops of her eyes. “Why did you call me a hunter? Do I feel like— somebody bad, I mean, violent to you?”

Taken aback, Sam blinked, shaking his head as he tried to keep his face neutral. “The scars?” It was his turn to swallow. “The scars on your arm look an awful like werewolf claws, but they’re small. I just jumped to conclusions I guess.”

She rubbed the arm in question and nodded, biting her lips as she accepted his thought process. “Right. Well, you’ve got a hell of an eye, Sam Winchester. You certainly know your wounds.”

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, “you want to tell me about them?”

“Not really— but you showed me yours.” Emery dropped down on the bedside perpendicular to Sam, piles of clothing and rationalized secrecy between them. “It’s only fair I come clean.

Well, shit, um,” Emery stammered, clamping her eyes shut to focus her thoughts away from Sam’s guarded yet attentive face. “I had a son, Georgie. He would have been thirteen this past April.”

“Emery, wow, I’m sorry— when did it happen?” Sam’s deep voice brought her back to the present.

She met his eyes just to look beyond his face, unwilling to accept his empathy. “Just before Christmas. He’d been acting weird, but I figured it was hormones, middle school and all that. He was a good kid, you know. Quiet, kept himself busy, and so, so handsome. He was stunning, every old lady would just stop and tease him, no matter where we were.”

Sam smiled sadly, letting her hold her memories and share them in her own time.

“I should have seen something was going on, but he had grown up with me knowing everything and he had gotten really good at controlling himself around me. Nobody likes a nagging mom. Well, ‘a psychic mom is the worst kinda mom.’—- He told me that when he was six and I knew his stomach ache was from sneaking ice cream sandwiches all night and not just a bug.” Emery huffed and shrugged.

“Turns out I was just the worst kind of mom anyhow,” Emery’s voice cracked. “He wasn’t big yet, barely up to my nose, but what was going through him made him strong. Bandit knew it first, started growling the second he came home the day before. Georgie locked him in my room, scared something was wrong with him. Not even knowing something was wrong with himself.”

“How’d he get bit?” Sam asked, following to where her story was leading.

Emery shook her head, mouth open from loss of answers. “I guessed he had gotten into it with some kids at school or something, because it was the first night of winter break when he turned. I still had boxes of decorations and the china to get out. Didn’t realize he hadn’t come out to say goodnight. It was midnight when I went in to shut off his light and he was there and on me.” She rubbed her upper arm, as if the scratches had reopened by the sheer mention of their origin.

Sam inhaled, knowing how this story ended. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe now.” Hand reaching over the piles and distances between them, he tried to soothe her. To save her from saying it out loud.

“It’s not okay, Sam. It’s not going to be okay until I get him out of that place, where I sent him. You’re a hunter. You know where monsters go.” Emery linked her crossed hands, burying them between her knees.

He retracted his hand, brushing it through his hair instead. “His soul. That’s your deal?”

Emery shifted, face contorted as she measured if she should reveal it all. “If we stick it out until your brother is separated from the angel, Naomi will restore his humanity and bring him to heaven.”

Sam sighed and stood up, not sure what to do with the sham she had been sold. “Sounds like something Naomi would say. But, I gotta ask, what aren’t you telling me? Because I know you’re not a psychic, Emery. Otherwise things would be very different—” Sam stopped short. ‘Between us’, left unsaid.

“I was psychic. And somehow, when Georgie—when I realized what I’d done— I broke through to them, somehow—,” Emery hadn’t meant to but suddenly she was standing, unsteady, and lost between guilt and regret.

“It wasn’t just angels, Sam. The dark ones came too, but they didn’t end me. No one would. Instead Naomi offered me the deal. I give up my powers and Georgie could move on. How could I say no? It was everything— so much more than what I deserved.”

Sam felt guilty; intruding on her past life, a tragedy so intimate and one that had nothing to do with him. Many things came flooding back to him now that he knew what had led her to him: her devoutness, her seemingly naïve trust in their deals, the way she tried to never say anything bad about another person, and the many masks she wore to get through each day. He felt blindsided with compassion for her situation beside the looming threat of popping that bubble. The knowledge that he would, again, be the one to shatter her chance at redemption, at hope.

“Emery, you’ve got to listen to me. I don’t know exactly everything you’ve been through, but you cannot trust Naomi with this. Purgatory— that’s no man’s land. Not angels’ or demons’ turf. Angels can’t go there on their own. Especially not to save a soul.”

“Why are you being like this? Can’t you just understand why I’m doing this? Why does everything have to wind back to Heaven being the bad guys, Sam?!” Emery cried, frustrated at Sam’s motivation.

Sam closed his eyes, knowing how insensitive he sounded. Straightening up he looked Emery dead in the eyes. “Because, Cas is the only angel that we’ve known to get into Purgatory. And it takes a lot more power than Heaven has left to even open a door. Naomi can’t save your son. I doubt she ever could. But I know somebody who might be able to.”


End file.
